Breaking the Rules
by ZombiexBunniez
Summary: When Mrs. Hudson's granddaught flies to London for the Hollidays she ends up stirring up 221B with her loud mouthed American ways. Sherlock detests her but is grudginly impressed by her from time to time.
1. Chapter 1

Katarina Hudson found herself stuffed full of a multitude of feelings. Excitement, fear, nervousness, another dash of excitement. Her Mother was allowing her to visit her grandmother- by herself. No escort, no hovering family member, just herself. Katarina smiled and gave herself a pat on the back. It may have seemed odd for a twenty four year old woman to need permission from her mother to go anywhere, and in all technicality she didn't, it just made her mother feel better when she got a say. She gave a deep sigh and pushed her hat rim higher above her brows. Katarina's relentless crusade against her mother's good intentions had been hard won. She shuttered to admit that she had even employed the silent treatment, but there she was, walking down Baker St. with an air of pride. So many summers and Christmases had brought her down the little street in London, but she'd never been alone. She usually let people dote on her, out of the irksome habit of caring for people's feelings, but this trip would be gloriously different.

Forty Two.

Katarina stopped and turned to her left and stood stock still. A small, childish smile spread across her face. She was there in front of her grandmother's door, but she wanted to revel in it. Little bubbles rose in her stomach and she gripped the hard plastic of her suitcase handle. It had rained a few hours before, she could smell it. People passed her on the street, plastic bags clattering against their legs as they rushed on by. There were Christmas presents in those bags no doubt. People were guilty of last minute shopping even in England. Kitty had gotten her Gran a rather expensive bottle of perfume for Christmas, and it was tucked away in her suitcase. She didn't usually spend a lot of money, despite the fact that she had more than enough money to spend.

"Sorry, Miss, we don't take cases on Christmas Eve." A man's voice startled her out of her thoughts and made her jump a bit. She hadn't been paying attention.

"Cases?" She blurted out confused. Her free hand jumped to her braid and gripped it out of habit. She turned to the man."Is this 221B Baker Street?" A panic rose in her stomach as she wondered if she'd just made a fool of herself, smiling like an idiot in front of some strange man's door.

"Yes-...Y-you're not here for a case then?" He was trying his damndest not show his surprise but was failing miserably. The man smelled like aftershave, tea and rubbing alcohol.

"No,.." Katarina's brows furrowed together in confusion. "Doesn't Mrs. Hudson live here?" There was a long pause and then a chuckle of what sounded like understanding came from the man. He sounded very pleasant.

"Lord, I'm sorry, I should have guessed you were her granddaughter. The accent should have told me. I let one of Mrs. Hudson's flats; She told me you'd be visiting. I'm John Watson." Katarina held out her hand instinctively. John shook her hand without pause. He had a good firm grip, and his hands were a little rough, but they were warm despite the winter air.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Katarina." She gave a smile in his general direction. _Mom would be so pissed if she knew I was talking to a stranger. _"You mean Dr. Watson don't you? Or are you a nurse?" A silence stretched out for a moment.

"How did you know?" The man asked sounding cautiously curious.

"You smell like a graveyard shift and rubbing alcohol." She smiled apologetically. "And you shook my hand so that means you aren't a germaphobe. That leaves a doctor or a nurse."

The man gave a chuckle.

"Oh he's not going to be excited about you." He mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry?" Katarina asked, pretending she hadn't heard him.

" Oh nothing. Here let me get that bag for you, I don't think Mrs. Hudson is in right now, but I can let you into her flat if you'd like." He sounded like a very kind man when he spoke and Katarina felt immediately at ease. _Besides, he knows my Grandma, and he said he'd let me in. Perfectly safe._

John took the suitcase gently out of her hand and opened the door to 221 B. Mrs. Hudson had been expecting her granddaughter's arrival and the poor woman had baked herself into a dervish, preparing all sorts of Christmas goodies. She'd popped out only a few minutes before to fetch some groceries for the Christmas party she was having.

John waited as the girl took the few steps into the flat and then shut the door behind her. She was about five foot six with auburn hair that was braided to the side. Her accent was intriguing, but not so much as her style of dress. She wore a bright yellow, knit hat, a blue coat that was the same color as painter's tape, and a pair of obnoxiously red boots. Even her suitcase was an assaulting shade of orange.

"What part of America are you from?" He tried to make some light conversation as he led on to the flat. He was glad Sherlock was out so that he wouldn't deduce the poor girl first thing. Sherlock's deductions and jet lag could not possibly mix well.

"Pennsylvania." Katarina followed him without faltering and stopped exactly when she should have so that he could unlock the door to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

"There we are," John pushed open the door to the flat and let Katarina pass him before entering. She smelled a bit like mint tea, and acrylic paint. "Mrs. Hudson should be back soon. I think there are some goodies in the fridge for you." John was surprised at how little she looked like Mrs. Hudson. She even had a smattering of freckles on her cheeks.

"She's been baking hasn't she?" Katarina said with a grin. "That's Granny for you... She's always made Christmas special." She made her way around the kitchen table and found one of the chairs before sitting herself down. _See, here I am in Granny's kitchen, safe and sound. _ Katarina knew she should call her mother immediately, but she didn't feel like handling the barrage of questions that were certainly waiting for her, so she left her ridiculously expensive smart phone in her pocket. Her mother had bought it for her about a year ago. Kitty didn't want it but couldn't, in good conscience refuse the gift.

"She certainly does. Tonight will be the first Christmas party I've been to in... Two years?" John set her suitcase next to the door and put his hands in his pockets. _Must be a bachelor if it has been that long. _She mused quietly. Katarina's mother would already be shoving her at the older man had she been there.

"Would you mind talking to me for a bit, if you aren't busy?" Katarina asked suddenly. She liked the sound of his voice, and the company was welcome.

"Certainly, if you'd like." John took the chair on the other side of the little table and sat down.

Katarina smiled and began removing her outer wear. She had a sweater on, her purple one, or so she had been told when she'd bought it.

"I'm going to apologize in advance if I talk your ear off. It's a bad habit of mine." She began absently twirling the worry ring on her right ring finger.

"Nonsense, some good conversation would be awfully refreshing. Sherlock just sits in silence for hours on end and doesn't even notice when I go out." Katarina paused and furrowed her brow. _What the hell kind of a name is Sherlock? _She thought with an inward smile. _I'd hate to be the poor bastard with that name._

"Oh, sorry, Sherlock is my flat mate. You'll meet him tonight at the party." For some reason John's tone made it seem like meeting Sherlock was not an occasion one should look forward to.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked bluntly. The look of surprise John gave her was tangible.

"I beg your pardon?" John gave an awkward laugh. He'd been asked that question often enough, but usually after someone had met Sherlock and fallen victim to his nonexistent socialization skills.

"Your voice did a thing where it sounded like I'd be giving blood, or inoculated with the plague rather than meeting your flatmate." Her response made John laugh outright.

"Well I suppose I did make it sound pretty dreadful, didn't I?" John leaned forward a bit and rested his arm on the table. This woman was as sharp as a tack.

"You sure did. So go on, what sort of plague are we talking here?" Katarina replied jokingly as she draped her coat over the back of the chair and stood. The flight from Doulas airport had been exhausting and she hadn't eaten anything for fear of the air sickness that enjoyed terrorizing her for every flight. _Granny's peanut butter cookies sound divine right about now._ She walked slowly to the fridge, knowing all too well that a new appliance or one thing in a new position could end in a stubbed toe or a fall.

"Sherlock is... an acquired taste." John chose his words carefully, and tried to be delicate. Katarina let out a laugh and shook her head.

"So in other words he's an asshole." She yanked the fridge open and began rummaging about. _Milk carton, Ketchup, Salad. _ Her stomach growled.

"You could definitely say that, yes." Katarina could hear the grin in his voice and smiled. He wasn't offended by her blunt manner of speaking and it made her feel a bit better. _Everyone expects me to be a quiet little girl._ She thought with an impish grin. Whenever someone met her in America the first thing they'd think of was her parent's money. So they always expected some refined bitch who couldn't even imagine a curse word.

"There you are you little devils!" She exclaimed giddily as she found the cellophane covered tray of assorted cookies. "So, John, what about you?" She asked before triumphantly stuffing a cookie into her mouth and savoring the sweetness.

"What about me?" He asked good-naturedly. "There's not much to tell really. You've already guessed what I do." John rubbed the back of his head and watched as Katarina made her way back to the table and sat herself down with her prize.

"Nonsense." She sampled another cookie and grinned. "I'm not a genius, I just have a sharp nose."

"Actually, I used to be a soldier." John felt a bit underhanded about throwing in the soldier bit but it always impressed the ladies, and despite her obvious quirks, Katarina was definitely an attractive lady. Katarina smiled and nodded.

"That must have been terrifying, makes me glad I'm a girl; Nobody is going to ask me to fight for king and country." John chuckled, which was not the usual response.

"I dunno, I wouldn't want to run into you in a dark alley." His joke made Katarina almost choke on the cookie she'd just bitten into. _Well I'll be damned._ He had both surprised and delighted her.

"Smart man." Mrs. Hudson chirped from the hallway. She had several bags that rustled as she came skittering in. John hopped up and took the heaviest of her load and carried them to the counter for her. "Let me have a look at you, Kitty! I haven't seen you in ages!" Katarina smiled and stood, opening her arms for her granny's little frame to fill them. _Jesus she is strong for her age!_ Mrs. Hudson gave her granddaughter a vice like squeeze and then held her at arm's length.

"Look at you! Colorful as always, and that pretty hair hidden away! How do you expect to catch a man if you don't let your hair down every now and again?" Katarina smiled at her Granny's good hearted chiding and shook her head.

"I missed you too Gran. I'm sorry but I've already dug my way into your cookie stores." Kitty said with a gesture to the tray of cookies.

"Good Lord, help yourself! I've made them all for you, Dear! John here has been trying to get his hands on them for days, so you might want to share." Gran released Kitty and began to putter around the kitchen, getting things ready for the party that night.

**Later That Night**

Kitty wasn't one for bothering much with her appearance, but Gran had insisted upon doing her hair at the very least. She'd showered and put on a change of clothes. A snugly fitting pair of jeans and a blue sweater that fit well was pretty much the extent of her "formal" wear, so after an hour of Gran battling with her unruly curls, the two women headed upstairs laden with trays of food.

It was slow going but Gran didn't rush her along or try to take the tray from her for fear she'd drop them. Gran was always great like that. The smell of a fire in the hearth welcomed them when John opened the door to his flat and greeted them enthusiastically.

"Good evening ladies! You're a sight for sore eyes." A deep aggravated groan came from inside the flat but John didn't miss a beat. "Here let me take those from you, Kitty."

"She's fine, John." Gran scolded, tatting him away and leading Kitty to the kitchen. "Now be careful, dear, Sherlock has all sorts of mess on the table, I made him clean the floor for you but I'd be careful of any surface." Kitty nodded and held the tray out for her Gran so she could set it down safely. The flat was warm, and smelled like violin rosin, and... chemicals?

"Do you play the violin, John?" Kitty asked, turning towards him. An ill natured chuckle came from the living room and Kitty turned to the man only a pace or so away from her. She smiled and held out her hand. "Hello, you must be Sherlock."

"Indeed, and you must be **Kitty.**" The way her name slid out of his mouth made Kitty feel uncomfortable. His voice was edgy, like a supervillain in a movie. She imagined he could sound downright devious when it pleased him. He didn't shake her hand so she let it fall to her side unbothered.

"John told me about you earlier. He says you're brilliant." Kitty gave a teasing smile that made Sherlock fight a smirk. Who was he to disagree with John?

"I've heard quite a bit about you, as well." The sudden change of tone in Sherlock's voice made Mrs. Hudson and John go on full alert.

"No, Sherlock." John said firmly, a finger pointed at his friend in warning.

"No? I haven't done anything." Sherlock protested, a look of interest on his face as he examined Kitty unabashedly.

"You're on the verge of misbehaving, young man." Gran chided, worry in her voice. Sherlock sighed and waved their warning off like annoying insects.

"I was simply wondering why neither of you mentioned that she is blind." Sherlock drolled before looking out the flat window, bored by the way the conversation had turned it's attention to him. There was a silence in the room.

"What?" John spat out. He didn't understand what Sherlock meant. She wasn't blind. She showed no obvious signs of any optic nerve damage , and she moved about just fine. Sherlock rolled his eye and looked at his friend disapprovingly.

"It's just not the most important thing about me." Kitty replied. "Just as I'm certain your asinine behavior isn't the most important thing about you." She hadn't been upset by his declaration, nor by Johns reaction.

"Kitty Anne, you'll watch your language in my house."

"You're blind?" John repeated dumbly trying to figure out what he had missed that could have possibly given it away Sherlock gave a sigh of frustration and sat down into his chair.

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, John." Sherlock quipped sarcastically.

"Don't be mean, a lot of people don't notice." Kitty said the last part to reassure John.

"Nonsense, only an idiot would be able to miss how slowly you came up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson never takes that long by herself, even with her hip. Most people's eyes sweep a room when they enter it but you just looked blankly ahead." Sherlock rattled off his little and admittedly obvious deduction without much interest. His eyes darted over her taking in every incriminating detail. John had made him swear he wouldn't deduce her but Sherlock couldn't just shut his brain off.

"John said you were going to do that." Kitty gave a light laugh and found her way to a rather plush arm chair. It smelled distinctly like Johns cologne so she assumed it was, in fact, his chair. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you, John?" She asked looking in the doctor's general direction. John was burning with shame. He was a bloody medical doctor and he had completely missed it.

"No, no, feel free." He slouched into the couch, seriously considering his career choice.

"How did you know that was John's chair?" Sherlock asked feeling mildly intrigued. There were several indicators but none most people would consider obvious.

"What do you mean?" Kitty asked sitting back and nestling in. It felt very warm by the fire. Sherlock noted the way she crossed her legs under herself.

"When you sat, you asked John specifically if you could sit there. How did you know it was his?"

Sherlock repeated himself. He was using a tiresome amount of patience with the girl. She made a funny sort of amused look and rested her head on her upturned palm.

"It smells like him, simple. Just like you smell of your violin and... Old Spice?" Sherlock examined the girl closely. She had a sharp nose. Not surprising considering she was blind. One's senses are often heightened after the onset of blindness, but she had mentioned his violin. He had deliberately not shaken her hand after she asked John whether he played the violin. He was bored and so he had set a little trap he hadn't expected her to evade.

"Who says it is my violin?" John shot Sherlock a disapproving glare but Sherlock completely ignored him. The girl made a face that was halfway between a pout and a smirk.

"You wouldn't shake my hand so I can't be sure but John does not have the hands of a violinist."

"He could be freshly started. Perhaps he just hasn't built up calluses yet." Sherlock shot back, wondering what the girl would do.

"Nope." She said with a confident shake of her head and an impish smile. Sherlock frowned and sat back in his chair not quite sure what to make of her. He was about to speak again but she cut him off. "If you want an explanation I'm going to need a glass of wine." Her smile went from impish to cheeky. Sherlock turned her demand over in his mind before rising and walking into the kitchen to find a bottle and glass. At least he wouldn't be utterly bored this evening.

John was startled when Sherlock actually left his seat and returned with a bottle of wine and a glass. The attractive woman he had spent hours talking to earlier that day was actually holding a semi-normal conversation with Sherlock Holmes. John had half expected to have to scold Sherlock at some point, but the girl seemed unfazed by what most people would have taken as rude.

"Now, would you care to elaborate?" Sherlock asked, sounding absolutely bored but anyone who knew him would know that even asking proved he was mildly interested. He poured a red wine into the glass he had brought and placed it into Kitty's outstretched hand.

"A neglected violin, or one played gently at that, won't leave rosin all over the flat. It takes an avid violinist to do that." Kitty stated it as though it was just simple fact. John scoffed.

"You should see him prancing about at 3:00 am in nothing but his robe and trousers playing that silly thing." Gran whispered conspiratorially to her granddaughter as she returned with a tray of goodies which she offered to the two men.

"I'm sure that would be a sight." Kitty chuckled and took a sip of her wine. She sounded almost rueful. "Would you play something for me?" She asked after allowing the sweet red wine to sit on her tongue for a moment. Sherlock found himself oddly stirred by the words she had used. She'd asked for a song for her. _Nonsense it's only turn of phrase. _Sherlock reminded himself. _She's awfully arrogant behaving in such a relaxed manner anyway._

"Oh yes, Sherlock! Play us something merry!" Gran piped in with an excited grin. Sherlock gave the older woman one of his rare smiles and shrugged.

"If you insist, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock grabbed his violin from next to his chair and rested it against his shoulder. Truth be told he had been itching to play. He'd never admit it but he was a showoff through and through. He ran the bow across the strings and then paused for a moment. He didn't like many Christmas carols. Most of them were idiotic and far too boisterous to do his beautiful violin any justice.

"Silent night?" Kitty suggested after taking another deep pull from her wine glass. Sherlock nodded, deciding that Silent Night would do, even if it wasn't particularly challenging. Momentarily the song began to float through the flat and his little audience closed their eyes to listen, even Kitty. Sherlock found the action redundant but continued to play anyway. Right in the middle of the song a mobile phone began to ring at a blaring volume. Kitty's eyes shot open and she yanked the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. The phone was expensive, far more so than anything else the girl had on her. She was up and out of the flat in an instant, answering the call as she stepped into the hallway.

"Mom? I'm so sorry!" Then the door shut and he could no longer hear her hushed voice. Sherlock hadn't even realized he'd stopped playing. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. John was looking at him strangely.

"What?" Sherlock snapped, not much appreciating his friends alienated look.

"You just had a conversation with a woman." John said with a surprised shake of his head. "I thought I'd seen everything." Sherlock frowned and set his violin aside.

"What do you mean? I have plenty of conversations with women." Sherlock couldn't understand why John was so startled by the obvious. He was beginning to question his choice of the doctor as his assistant if he couldn't observe even the most basic of things without sounding astonished.

"Yes, but normally your conversations end with the woman thinking you're an arrogant sod." John was right of course. Women were such delicate , confusing creatures, but Sherlock was sure that as soon as he would turn his deductions on her she would prove just as weak and emotional as all the rest.

"Give him time." Mrs. Hudson chirped from the kitchen. Sherlock frowned and crossed his legs.

It wasn't long before people started arriving. Lestrade arrived first.

"I've just passed your granddaughter," He said with a polite smile to Mrs. Hodson. "Beauty must run in the family." Mrs. Hudson giggled like a young girl and swatted his arm.

"Don't you flirt with me, Detective, I'm far too old for that." Mrs. Hudson tried to sound stern but her sweet old voice showed flattery. Sherlock grimaced. Lestrade took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack behind the door. As Lestrade stepped away from the door it opened and Kitty snuck back in, an apologetic look on her face.

"I'm really sorry, Sherlock. I didn't mean to interrupt." Lestrade looked down at the girl with an eyebrow raised. He didn't bother hiding the way his eyes raked down her frame. Sherlock frowned.

"Quite alright. Lestrade here was just telling us about how he is going to Dorset first thing in the morning with his **wife.**" Sherlock gave Lestrade a dirty look, and Lestrade took a step away from Kitty.

Kitty knit her brows together and frowned for a moment. Perhaps she had caught wind of what he had done but Sherlock brushed the thought aside. Everyone was looking at him disapprovingly but he didn't care.

"I've obviously missed something." Kitty could feel the awkward in the air. "Anyway," Kitty began. "I've brought you a present, Gran, should I go and get it?" Kitty turned her head towards her grandmother. Sherlock was mildly irritated at how hard she tried to appear normal, what was more irritating, however, was that people fell into the ruse.

"Oh you didn't have to bother with me." Mrs. Hudson waved at her granddaughter, gesturing for her to save it for later. Sherlock couldn't handle the idiocy of the moment any longer.

"For God's sakes , she's blind!" Sherlock spat in a moment of sheer frustration. Lestrade, imbecile that he was looked startled and then gave Kitty a good hard look. She chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair.

" Are you going to announce that every time someone arrives, Sherlock? I could save you the trouble. 'Hello, I'm Kitty, and I'm as blind as a bat wearing sunglasses.'" Katarina's voice wasn't angry at all, but it was blatantly condescending, at least to Sherlock's ears. She had the habit of breaking awkward silences with humor. Everyone but Sherlock chuckled in relief. However it was short lived.

"Do you think that they'll just forget if you make them laugh hard enough?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he frowned angrily. Her tone had pushed his buttons. Kitty spread a smile and laughed like he was an amusing child. Sherlock felt absolutely livid.

"Do you think I'll get angry if you keep behaving like a child?" She shot back. John and Greg leaned forward. It was like a fight had broken out in school and everyone was waiting to see who threw the first punch.

"Please, Kitty, don't antagonize him." Mrs. Hudson fretted, but it was too late. Sherlock's gloves had come off.

"Why on earth would you be angry? You like the attention it gets you, and has gotten you your entire life. As an only child, in a wealthy family you should have been spoiled enough, but no, your parents gave birth to a little,**blind** baby. You were doted on and coddled a **disgusting** amount, which has given you your unapologetic attitude. You're used to people letting you do whatever you please and talk however you like. You use their pity." Sherlock leapt out of his chair and stalked over to Kitty. Her hazel eyes followed him, always a bit behind where he actually was, but she still seemed absolutely unfazed.

"Kind of like how you **use** your **brilliance**." Kitty fired back. "You're right though, or at least you would have been had you met me a few years ago." Kitty poked her index finger into Sherlock's chest and shoved him a step backwards. "Go on I know you have more bouncing around in that **brilliant** brain of yours." It was like Kitty had lost all sense of the people around her. She had a foul habit of courting danger. It had gotten her into trouble before, but why stop him. It was obvious she'd set off a reaction that was fascinatingly aggressive.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and batted the girl's petulant hand away from his chest.

"You lashed out as a teenager, drugs, bad boys, parties, although your favorite of the three was the drugs. Anything you could do to force the idea of your independance on those around you, but particularly your mother. Oh how you fought to be just like everyone else, you're still fighting in fact, but what did you do to make you change, hmm? Must have been awful considering the way you bend to your mother's will." Sherlock leaned closer to the girl, frustrated by how calm she looked as he dragged her dirty secrets out for everyone to see. He wanted her to be angry. he wanted for her to lash back and be done with it. He wanted her to be **defeated**."Flirting with John all afternoon, and flashing dazzling little smiles to distract everyone from what is staring them in the face."

Kitty could hear his angry breaths and feel his height looming over her. He was acting like an animal that had caught a lesser specimen of his species traipsing through his territory. _It's sexy in a terrifying sort of way._ Her subconscious sprang forward inconveniently. Kitty just raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, squaring up to him. Sherlock grinned maliciously.

"So tell me, **dear, little Kitty." **Sherlocks tone was venomous." What did I get wrong" He had won. He had already tucked the victory away in his mind palace to replay for a moment of severe boredom when Kitty shrugged.

"I wasn't born blind…- and my favorite was actually the bad boys." Her tone had started out trivial, but became flirtatious, and was punctuated by a sassy wink. Everyone's mouths fell open in shock. Sherlock however was completely blindsided by her clever little attack. He had been sure she was on the verge of breaking. He came dangerously close to murder in that moment, but the size of her pupils stole his attention.

"That's enough!" Mrs. Hudson's matriarchal voice cut into the intense battle between the two and caused them both to turn to her surprised. "You've done quite enough damage, young Lady! Go downstairs this instant!" It was Kitty's jaw that fell open this time.

"What?" She blurted out astonished. "I'm not a child!" Kitty's face grew hot with embarrassment.

"You have yet to behave like an adult!" Mrs. Hudson admonished. "You're almost as bad as Sherlock!" The man in question gave Mrs. Hudson an incensed glare." Don't think I've forgotten your part in this." She waggled a furious finger at Sherlock as she turned Kitty to the door and shuffled her out without another word. It was at moment that Molly chose to arrive.

"Hello, the sign on the door said to just come up so.." She stopped mid sentence coming face to face with Sherlock who looked fit to be tied. "What have I missed?" She squeaked.

"Nothing." Sherlock snapped before turning on his heel and stalking over to his chair. He snatched up his violin and began to play the angriest rendition if 'I Wish You a Merry Christmas' that any of the others had ever heard. He hoped it would drive the blind girl mad.


	2. Chapter 2

It had barely felt like she'd closed her eyes, before her alarm was going off. Her hand came to her face and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she sat up with a groan. Her lower back ached and the headache from the night before had lingered. She pushed herself to her feet and stretched her arms high above her head. Her back creaked in protest and made Kitty grimace. Kitty dressed quickly and was brushing her hair when there came a small polite knock on her door.

"Come in, John." She called trying to sound cheery. She wasn't prepared to be around anyoneanyone yet, especially the polite doctor who she had so thoroughly embarrassed herself in front of the night before.

"How did you know it was me?" Kitty could hear a kind smile in his voice.

"Your knock was the embodiment of politeness." _And Sherlock doesn't seem to have a habit of knocking. _Kitty pursed her lips at the thought.

"I'm sorry, should I come back later?" There was a note of concern in John's voice.

"No, sorry. I just didn't sleep very well." She gave him a reassuring smile and he nodded. His fingers were fidgeting and he kept rocking from his heels to his toes. "Are you nervous about something, John?" She blurted out, unable to simply ignore the tension he was giving off.

"I was just wondering if you would go to breakfast with me." Kitty's surprised look and her silence made John's sentence stumble on. "You know- as… as an apology." _How can this sweet guy possibly stand living with that asshole._ Kitty gave him a pleasant smile and nodded.

"Sure, I had planned to make breakfast for Gran, but I wouldn't mind going out with you." Kitty sat on the pull out couch, which was still a jumble of twisted sheets and blankets, so she could pull her socks on. John swallowed audibly. "So where are we going, Soldier?" She asked, hoping that he would relax.

"I know a little cafe that has amazing scones nearby." John offered, sounding a bit less out of his depth. Kitty grinned and nodded.

"Well I just so happen to have a very unhealthy relationship with scones so that will work wonderfully." John watched as she pulled her bright red rain boots on and smiled inwardly. He didn't feel quite so bad anymore for not having noticed that she was blind. She tried very hard to appear normal, just as Sherlock had said. Unlike Sherlock, however, John found it endearing rather than annoying. Kitty stood up and offered the doctor her arm, making him laugh.

"I'm the one who's supposed to do that." He chided playfully.

"Gotta be faster then." She teased before leading the way out of the basement flat. John chuckled and followed her. Once they were on the street she hooked her arm in his and John hailed a passing Taxi.

The Cafe John had chosen was a nice little place, with only a few people there. Kitty let John lead her to a booth and scooted in. They were by the front window. She could feel the chill air seeping off of the glass.

"So what's this I heard about an unhealthy relationship with scones?" John asked teasingly as he sat.

"Did I say it was unhealthy?" Kitty feigned innocence.

"Well I am a doctor. I'm trained to know about these things." John's playful tone helped Kitty relax.

"Alright then Doctor, what looks good." Kitty didn't move to grab a menu, she just pointed her eyes at John and waited.

"Well there are lemon scones, raspberry scones, poppy seed muffins, strawberry short cake." John was surprised that he didn't feel silly reading the menu to a grown woman.

"Oh boy, this place is most definitely **not** diet friendly." Kitty gave a small chuckle. John raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"It's a good thing your doctor doesn't think you should be dieting then." He was startled by how confidently the words had just fallen out of his mouth. Kitty gave a surprised laugh and beamed at him.

"You're going to create a monster you know." The emotionless baritone startled the two out of their playful flirting and made them both frown. "A woman who isn't concerned about her weight will become obese in no time at all." The consulting detective sat down in the booth next to John and gave the doctor a smile that made him clench his jaw.

"Right, sorry, what are you doing here." John's tone made it clear that he was not at all happy to have been interrupted.

"Saving Miss Hudson from you're atrocious attempts at thinking with your brain instead of your trousers." Sherlock brushed off the doctor's outrage without much interest. He grabbed the menu that had been stupidly placed in front of Kitty. "You don't mind do you?" His comment made Kitty glare at him and cross her arms. At that moment a waitress came over and smiled at them.

"Are you ready to order?" She asked cheerily. Sherlock didn't look at her.

"Yes, I'll have a small coffee, black, two sugars. My friend will have the Lemon scone and a coffee, cream and sugar set on the side, and she will be having the strawberry short cake and some hot chocolate." Sherlock shoved the menu at the girl who had struggled to keep up with his rapid fire order and sent her scurrying. John just put his face in his hands and growled.

"Ok, Mr. Know-it-all, why hot chocolate?" Kitty grumbled, deciding that any conversation at all would be better than silence, even if it stroked his infuriating ego.

"You're an insomniac, from what John tells me caffeine is not good for sleep problems." Sherlock pulled off his gloves and slipped them into his pocket. John had noticed the dark circles under the girl's eyes but had chosen to ignore them.

"Since when do you listen to me?" John jabbed. Sherlock simply smirked.

"I don't, but Miss Hudson doesn't seem too fond of me so I assumed she would rather hear it from a doctor." Sherlock looked down at John who was looking at him incredulously. "What?"

"Every time I think you couldn't possibly be more of a prick, you prove me wrong." John crossed his arms and decided to glare out the window. Sherlock shrugged and turned his attention to Miss Hudson.

"I apologize for breaking into your flat. I was wrong." He didn't expect John's reaction.

"You what?!" John growled, twisting in his seat to afford for the full expression of his fury. Sherlock looked at him bewildered.

"Really, John, must I always repeat myself? It's awfully tiring." Miss Hudson let out a snort and the two men looked at her. She was chuckling into her hand and shaking her head.

"So you didn't find your imaginary stash of drugs then?" She quipped, sounding very much annoyed, but Sherlock thought he heard something else in her voice. John whipped back to Sherlock, a look of outrage and astonishment etched onto his face. Kitty knew she should probably have been more angry with Sherlock but one thing she did not do was fault people for being odd. No matter how strange their brand of odd was.

"You accused her of stashing drugs?" John couldn't fathom the depth of Sherlock's ignorance of common manners. Sherlock rolled his eyes as the waitress arrived and took the coffee directly out of her hand before she could set it down. He took a big gulp of the hot liquid. He hadn't slept in days, and despite how collected he looked he was in desperate need of caffeine.

"He thought my eyes were dilated during our spat." Kitty explained to John who thought she didn't look anywhere near as bothered as she should have. Sherlock frowned and set his coffee down.

"They **_were_** dilated." He growled. He didn't like the note of amusement in her tone. The image of her pupils expanding as he'd closed in on her made Sherlock feel odd. He must be catching some sort of stomach virus.

"Well it sure as hell wasn't because I was tripping on drugs." She chuckled and took a swig of the hot chocolate that had been left for her. Something about the way he was so easily offended amused her.

"Of course not, your eyes were dilated because you were aroused." The smirk on Sherlock's face became utterly triumphant as Kitty choked on her hot Chocolate and flushed bright red.

"What?" She hissed, feeling all together embarrassed and furious. John looked at Sherlock and then at Kitty. He tightened his jaw and shook his head.

"You enjoy ruining people's mornings don't you." John spat angrily. Sherlock sighed at the accusation and rolled his eyes petulantly.

"I did no such thing. She wasn't planning on having intercourse with you. I didn't change that." Sherlock watched as the other two people at the table became even redder. He would never be able to understand why other people felt the need to blush at the mention of mating.

"And why wouldn't I have?" Kitty blurted out, feeling very much entitled to her childish outburst. John looked as though he'd had ice water dumped on him but Sherlock pursed his lips and considered her for a moment.

"When I interrupted your **_sickening_** conversation John had just complimented you. You're pupils were not the least bit dilated, there was no flush in your cheeks, and your carotid artery didn't show any signs of an elevated heartbeat, unlike its current state." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, subconsciously challenging her to defy him. Kitty's hand jumped to her neck to cover her traitorous flesh as her eyes widened in embarrassed surprise.

"Well I'm sure as hell not aroused right now!" She yelled louder than she would have liked. The other diners in the cafe paused and looked at her. For a moment the cafe was in silence.

"Obviously," Sherlock drawled. "that **_would _**be interesting now wouldn't it?" He deliberately lowered his voice to just above a whisper. She had played perfectly into his hand and he had trapped her. Kitty's flirtatious attack the night before had thrown him off, but Sherlock had made it obvious that he wouldn't allow flirtation to rattle him again.

The deafening silence was broken when Sherlock's phone began to ring. His demeanor went right back to being as warming as an iceberg when he answered.

"Holmes." He didn't take his eyes off Kitty. He was watching the wheels turn in her head. His look completely changed as Mrs. Hudson's panicked voice came over the phone. "No, she's not missing. John and I simply took her for breakfast. Oh yes, our little spat is all cleared up." His tone was dripping with condescension. Kitty bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from telling him off and starting another damned argument. He had gotten back at her, and despite how pissed she was about it, she was impressed. Sherlock closed his phone as the food arrived and looked expectantly at Kitty. When she didn't move to take a bite of her shortcake Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

"Your food has arrived." He stated, knowing that she wasn't ignorant of the fact.

"I'm aware." She snapped. _I'm going to slap him._

"You're going to eat it." Sherlock stated as though he was talking to a child. Kitty sat taller in her seat and shook her head defiantly.

"I don't eat food I don't cook." Kitty blatantly lied. Sherlock saw right through it.

"You were willing to eat with John." He stated, effectively debunking her lie.

"Probably because John has the ability to not have every word he says be offensive." She spat back. In her imagination she was clobbering him. Sherlock looked at John who shrugged innocently. He thought for a moment before sighing heavily.

"If you eat it, I'll play for you again." It was a long shot. Sherlock only wanted to see her eat it to find out if his deductions had been right about her tastes. He watched as her angry expression loosened and her brows rose ever so slightly.

"Promise it won't be Christmas songs?" Sherlock had to fight back the beginnings of a grin.

"I promise." Sherlock wasn't one for making promises but this one would be fulfilled easily enough. A little pleased smile spread across the young woman's face and Sherlock felt a tightening in his stomach. He was definitely becoming ill. She took a spoon in her hand and after taking a moment to discreetly locate the plate on the table she lifted a bite to her mouth. The cool sweet flavor of the strawberries and whipped cream made her grin outright.

It was two days before Kitty asked Sherlock to make good on his promise. Her light knock on the door came at about 2:00 am. John had gone to bed hours before, but Sherlock had been laying awake for just as long. He opened the door to an exhausted, shaking, Kitty. When she heard the door open she paused only for a fraction of a second, to identify who had opened it, before giving a weak smile.

"Would you play for me now?" She asked in a voice that was cracked with shed tears. Sherlock was curious, but despite what most people thought of him he **did** know when to use a gentler hand, and Mrs. Hudson's promise to throw him out on his ear should he ever upset her granddaughter again, made him employ that knowledge.

"If you like." His voice was lacking it's usual pompous tone which brought an obvious look of surprise to Kitty's face. He sounded as exhausted as she felt. "Come in." Sherlock stepped aside and let Kitty pass him into the apartment. She was slouched with her lack of sleep and her normally neatly braided hair fell in auburn curls around her face and shoulders. The hollows under her eyes were puffy and swollen. Sherlock wondered if she had simply had nightmares. Kitty slumped onto the couch and curled up into a ball, hugging their union jack pillow to her chest. She looked haunted. "Do you have any requests?" He asked as he took up his violin and raised it to his shoulder.

"Something…- " Her words drifted off. "Peaceful." The last word came out as a sigh. Sherlock noticed that she had not bothered to try and falsify a glance in his direction when she spoke. Without another word between the two insomniacs, he began to play. He chose a lullaby that he had listened to often as a child. It was soft and lilting. He played several songs, ignoring the soft whimpers that he heard every now and again before pausing and examining her current state. She hadn't moved at all. Her hazel green eyes stared blankly ahead, but her cheeks were dry. When he did not continue she turned her head slightly, her eyes still staring at nothing. He found something beautiful about the way she always seemed to be looking at the answer to life itself.

"Do you want to stop?" She asked sounding a bit disappointed.

"A question for a song?" He didn't mind playing, but the only way to get her to cooperate so far had been bartered by a glass of wine and his violin. Seeing as he had been strongly cautioned against upsetting her he would try a new tactic. Kitty did not respond for a long time before giving him a tiny nod. "You said that you were not born blind…" Kitty knit her brows together.

"I think we both know that isn't a question, Mr. Holmes." She gave a hollow laugh that didn't reach her eyes. She'd called him Mr. Holmes, distancing herself emotionally from him.

"What blinded you?" His question had an instantaneous effect on Kitty. She dug her nails into the pillow she was clutching, as though it was her lifeline. "Trauma then." He deducted aloud. Kitty gave a little shrug. "Automobile accident?" Kitty pursed her lips.

"You owe me a song Mr. Holmes." Her voice was barely audible. Sherlock sighed impatiently and once more raised his violin to his shoulder. The music began, however when he stopped again there was no protest. Kitty had fallen asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Kitty awoke the next morning with a tight, burning pain in her back, and the coat tails of a headache. Slowly she straightened up and gave a groan of discomfort as her body protested.

Firm, masculine footsteps announced John's entrance into the living room followed by his voice.

"Kitty?" He was surprised to see the young woman curled in the corner of his couch, hair a mess, and sleepy eyed.

"Sherlock was playing for me." She answered his unspoken question with a strained smile. "I must have fallen asleep." She slowly stretched her stiff legs to meet the chill wooden floor. The leather of their sofa stuck to her skin and made it sting when it was unceremoniously parted from her flesh.

"Oh. Well, would you like a cuppa?" John asked, always the polite one as he made his way into the kitchen. "I'd offer you breakfast, but the only thing in our fridge right now is a severed head." John opened the fridge to double check himself. "Wait, I was wrong. There are some thumbs in here too." When Kitty didn't respond he leaned through the doorway to take a peek at her. She looked thoroughly horrified.

"Erm, just tea for me thanks." She said, swallowing the ,ill feeling that had risen in her throat. Something told her that he really wasn't joking. "You two bring a whole new meaning to the word bachelor." John stepped back into the kitchen with a chuckle and began hunting for clean teacups. Kitty stood up and began milling about the room. She let her hands reach out and touch the many knickknacks that covered almost every surface. She was familiarizing herself with the room. Then suddenly the earth gave a shudder and the windows blew out. Kitty's ears were ringing. She couldn't hear anything but the awful, shrieking noise that filled her ears. With dread she felt the beginning of one of her seizures take hold of her body and begin to jerk it. She felt like she was being electrocuted.

Hands, she could feel hands holding her down, trying to keep her from hurting herself.

"No!" She shrieked, trying to get whoever had her to let go. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel her blood crawling beneath her skin like a thousand insects. Then the ringing went quiet and she stopped moving.

**Sherlock's POV**

He'd burst into the apartment only moments after the explosion had occurred. He'd been on the stairwell, and although the shock wave had knocked him over he had been relatively unharmed. He took in the situation quickly. Kitty on the floor, eyes wide and startled, beginning to convulse. Her left arm had been torn open by flying glass and she was bleeding badly. John staggered out of the kitchen, his hands to his ears. Sherlock assessed his injuries as he dropped to his knees next to Kitty. He scooped her head into his hands, her convulsions slamming his knuckles against the hard floor.

"John! Hold her down!" He shouted as the Doctor came to his senses and realized the danger of the situation. Kitty was effectively eviscerating herself on the glass shards that were scattered across the floor. John grabbed Kitty's arms and pinned them against her body, blood covering his hands the moment he touched her. To the shock of them both Kitty let out an ear splitting scream. She had screamed 'no'. John and Sherlock looked at each other, understanding passing between them. When her body suddenly fell still Sherlock felt panicked for a moment. He pressed his hand against the pulse point in her neck and relaxed the instant he felt her racing heart beat. She'd only passed out.

"Roll her onto her side." John commanded, his years of training kicking in. "This isn't an epileptic seizure, but she can still suffocate if we're not careful." Sherlock nodded solemnly and helped John roll her onto her right side, away from the glass and blood. Sherlock's mind was racing. John ripped open Kitty's t-shirt to check the extent of the damage. She was covered in blood and glass shards poked out of her skin like shiny little thorns, but the damage had fallen just short of where her carotid artery was. There was no telling when or if she would start another seizure so they had to move quickly. John stood up and ran to his room to grab his doctor's bag, reappearing a moment later. Sherlock found himself mildly impressed by the hardened look on the doctor's face. John pulled a long piece of rubber out of his bag and made a tourniquet high on her arm. Then a pair of tweezers appeared in his hands and he began the grueling process of extracting the largest pieces of glass so that he could bandage her arm without causing more harm than good. A sharp hissing noise came from the girl as she came too and she began to struggle.

"No! no no no no!" She wailed, trying to fight the doctor's hands, making it impossible for him to keep her arm still.

"Sherlock." John snapped, not needing to give a specific command. Sherlock pulled the girl up and against him before wrapping his arms around her slight frame and pinning her right arm against her. His right hand grabbed her left wrist and held her arm still.

"Stop fighting." Sherlock spoke into her ear. "You're only making things more difficult." His words were harsh and only made the girl fight harder. John glared at him.

"You're supposed to comfort her not scare her." John snapped as he pulled another large shard of glass out of the girl's arm and made her scream in pain. Sherlock frowned and changed his tone.

"Hush now, I know it hurts." He said, mimicking the way his mother had spoken to him as a child. "Let the good doctor fix you up." When Kitty's left arm fell slack and she whimpered Sherlock released it and began stroking her hair. John was surprised at how Sherlock had morphed into what looked like a normal human being but was too concentrated to say anything about it. For the moment Sherlock was being helpful.

Several more glass shards were removed before John wrapped Kitty's arm up and removed the tourniquet.

"Can you hear me Kitty?" John asked, dropping his things back into his medical bag and grabbing out a syringe. Kitty gave a weak nod. Her fist was clenched around Sherlock's shirt. "I'm going to give you an anesthetic to help with the pain." Suddenly Kitty eyes were on him, unseeing and full of anger.

"No." She stated curling into Sherlock as though he were some sort of safe haven. Sherlock did not look at all pleased and it made John glad that Kitty couldn't see his face.

" You're in pain. Just take the Morphine." Sherlock growled. John shot him a look but Sherlock simply glared back. Footsteps came pounding up the stairs and Lestrade burst into the flat.

"Jesus." He breathed, taking in the blood and the state of the three people before him. He grabbed the walky talky that was on his shoulder and barked into it.

"I'm going to need an ambulance at 221B, 24 year old female, multiple lacerations, second floor." He released the button and looked at John.

"How bad?" He asked before joining the three on the floor. He gave Sherlock a strange look and then returned his attention to John.

"The glass did a number on her arm, and she's lost a lot of blood, but she's out of the woods so far." John relayed the information with a sigh.

"Looks like you've been a trooper." Lestrade said kindly to Kitty, taking how badly she had been hurt.

"What happened?" Sherlock snapped, unable to wait any longer to get his answers. Kitty flinched at the sound of his sharp tone and reached her hand out to John.

"Gas leak." Lestrade stated simply. Sherlock happily passed Kitty to John and stood, frowning at the state of his favorite shirt and blazer.

"Boring." Sherlock stated petulantly.

"Are you kidding me?" John breathed. He was very slowly helping Kitty to lean against him for support.. "Your flat has just exploded, injuring your house guest, and you're bored?"

"Of course I am, John. All of this happened and I haven't even gotten a case out of it" John and Lestrade stared at Sherlock flabberghasted. Then Sherlock's gaze darted to Kitty. "Call back and tell them we won't be needing an ambulance. She's not going to the hospital."

"What?" John and Lestrade blurted out in unison. Sherlock gave an annoyed sigh.

"She's not going to the hospital. She's terrified look at her." Sherlock gestured at Kitty. "She's been shaking ever since you called for the ambulance, and she has refused the morphine. At first I thought it might be due to a simple case of trypanophobia, but she wasn't scared when you mentioned it, no, she was disgusted. She doesn't seem to be the type to advocate pain so I can only assume she has been addicted to Morphine in the past, and doesn't want to repeat the experience. If she goes to the hospital they will only fill her with heavy narcotics and make things worse." John watched Kitty shrink as Sherlock spoke and frowned.

"She needs medical attention." John countered.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I had thought you were a medical doctor." Sherlock replied haughtily. John clenched his jaw and shook his head. He knew Sherlock Holmes well enough to know that he wasn't going to win this argument.

"Are you alright with this, Kitty?" John asked. Kitty was startled to have been suddenly brought under attention and flushed.

"He's right. It's probably best if I don't go to the hospital." She was feeling very weak and her answer came out as a strained whisper. John nodded to Lestrade who stepped out of the room to call off the ambulance.

"Sherlock, help me get her to the sofa." John looked at Sherlock when he didn't move. "You're the one who said she wasn't going to the hospital, so you're going to help take care of her." John stated in a tone that left no room for argument. The two men stared each other down before Sherlock gave a great sigh of aggravation and kneeled to help John lift Kitty into a chair hold.

"I could just walk!" Kitty protested, pushing their hands away.

"Nonsense, you'll only cut your feet on the glass. Now behave." John had taken up his 'doctor' voice. Kitty didn't have the energy to be stubborn so she allowed the two men to lift her up and gently set her on the sofa.

Once Kitty was settled on the couch John dragged his chair over, so that he would be able to work on her arm, and put a lamp directly overhead.

"I'm going to have to give you a muscle relaxer to stop you from having anymore pseudo seizures while I work." John stated matter-of-factly. Kitty nodded. She wasn't looking forward to what came next. John pulled a bottle out of his bag and popped two pills into Kitty's hand. Sherlock appeared from the kitchen with a bottle of red wine and a glass. John shook his head.

"She can't have that, it won't mix well with the muscle relaxers." John stated as he wiped his tweezers in rubbing alcohol to sterilize them.

"For god sakes, John, she's about to have shards of glass pried out of her arm without any form of anesthetics, the least you can do is allow her to be intoxicated when it happens. Besides, it will only give her a headache when she sobers up." Sherlock poured Kitty a glass and handed it to her. Kitty took it with an appreciative nod and took two large gulps before putting the pills in her mouth and washing them down with what was left in the glass. Both of the men were shocked into silence when she held out the glass for more. She frowned and sighed.

"This isn't the first time I've been operated on without anesthesia." She admitted reluctantly. "At least this time I've been offered _**something**_ for the pain." Sherlock filled the glass again and she downed it, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to make her fuzzy. "Alright John let's get this over with." John let out a chuckle and shook his head as he took her arm in his free hand.

"She's awe inspiring, this one." He commented under his breath as concentration took hold of him and he began his work. Sherlock watched the girl intensely. He had to agree with John. Each time a glass shard was painstakingly removed Kitty would bite her bottom lip and close her eyes. Every now and again a traitorous tear would spill down her cheek and she would rush to wipe it away with her free hand, but she never made a sound. Not one whimper passed her lips. Sherlock was convinced that whatever had happened to her was linked to, if not directly responsible for her blindness. She had nonepileptic pseudoseizures, no doubt caused by severe post traumatic stress disorder, which were a psychosomatic malady. Then the answer hit him.

"Your blindness is psychosomatic isn't it?" Sherlock blurted out, startling both John and Kitty. Kitty winced as John removed another piece of glass.

"Yeah, so?" She spat, her voice hoarse with the effort not to scream. John stopped and looked at her in earnest.

"It's alright, Kitty. I had a psychosomatic limp after I got shot in Afghanistan. It's nothing to be ashamed of." John tried to sound reassuring. Kitty scowled in Sherlock's direction and blinked away tears.

"And how long did your problem last exactly? Two years? Three?- I've been like this since I was _**eight years old**_." Kitty's voice was bitter. She bit back the urge to spill her guts and went completely silent. She'd never even spoken to a therapist about it so she wasn't going to just dump her past on two strange men. After a moment of their silence her mood softened. "I'm sorry, John. It wasn't right of me to say something like that."

"It's alright." John smiled reassuringly and checked his work. He couldn't find anymore glass.

"Well, I think I'm done, but we should take you to St. Barts and get you x-rayed to be sure." John set her arm down and pulled out a bag of cotton puffs and an antibacterial agent. "I'll also have to pick up some antibiotics to give you." Then he set about cleaning her arm up and washing away the caked blood.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and dialed Molly's number.

"Molly, it's Sherlock. I'll be bringing a friend of mine in to be x-rayed… No she's quite alive." Sherlock hung up and put his phone back into his pocket startled by John's look of astonishment. "What?"

"You know you've just driven that poor girl into a panic, right?" John stated before bandaging Kitty's arm. "The man who doesn't have any friends is suddenly bringing a female friend into her lab who is 'quite alive'" John mimicked Sherlock's voice. "You know what she's going to assume don't you?" Sherlock scoffed and flounced into his bedroom. John just laughed at the taller man and fastened off Kitty's bandage.

"Is Molly his girlfriend?" Kitty asked curiously. She couldn't imagine Sherlock having a girlfriend.

"Well she certainly want's to be." John gave a piteous chuckle. "Poor girl dotes on him and he barely pays her any notice." Kitty could certainly imagine Sherlock doing that.

About an hour later Kitty, Sherlock, and John arrived in the Morgue of St. Bart's hospital, all of them in fresh clothing. When they had exited the Taxi Sherlock had taken Kitty's hand and practically dragged her behind him. However as soon as they had made it to the morgue he'd dropped her hand and straightened his coat as though the action had made it messy.

"Sherlock!" A feminine voice piped as soon as they had entered the lab. Kitty stopped as soon as she entered the door and stood. She wasn't going to make a fool out of herself by bumping into a table or dead body.

"Molly, this is Kitty, she's gotten herself a bit torn up." Sherlock put his hand to Kitty's back and pressed her forward, ensuring she wouldn't hit anything. Kitty knit her brows together at the gesture but allowed herself to be herded forward into a cloud of overpowering perfume.

"Nice to meet you." Kitty held her hand out, not bothering to try and hide her blindness. Sherlock would have just pointed it out anyway. The girl took her hand cautiously and shook it.

"She's blind!" Molly blurted out in confusion before covering her mouth in surprise at herself. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Kitty gave her a smile that didn't reach her eyes and grit her teeth. _This whole thing is getting old._ She thought angrily to herself.

"I should think that was obvious." The venom in Sherlock's voice surprised everyone. Even himself. "We need to x-ray her arm to be sure that all of the glass has been removed from it." Molly nodded hurriedly and rushed off to get approval for use of the x-ray machine. The three stood in awkward silence before Kitty spoke up.

"Her perfume seems a bit expensive to be wearing around dead people." Sherlock let out a laugh but stopped when John gave him a dirty look.

"I wish you could see her makeup." Sherlock stated, a dash of conspiracy in his tone. Kitty just grinned.

"You two ought to be ashamed." John chided half heartedly. He had to admit that Molly's useless attempts at catching Sherlock's attention were mildly amusing but he felt awful admitting it.

"Why? She insulted me." Kitty tried to cross her arms but her injured arm screamed in pain and she winced.

"She did exactly what Sherlock did." John countered. "You weren't offended when he did it."

"That's because when Sherlock said it, he meant absolutely nothing other than what he said. A simple statement of fact. When Molly said it, what she really meant was 'But she's blind! Why on earth would Sherlock be friends with her!?' " Kitty frowned. She thought the same thing herself but she didn't need to have another person thinking it.

"Smell that in her perfume, did you?" Sherlock chuckled. He found himself strangely at ease next to his landlord's granddaughter. Kitty snorted and Molly entered the room.

"The x-ray has been reserved, would you like me to take her?" Molly's voice was too cheery. Kitty felt suddenly sorry for the girl. She was chasing a man who was as emotionally adept as a piece of chalk and as cuddly as a sticker bush.

"That won't be necessary." Sherlock put his hand once more on Kitty's back and ushered her out of the morgue and down the hall, leaving John to deal with a put out medical examiner.

"She really does like you, you know." Kitty announced. "We both know she wasn't gussied up for her post mortem admirers." Sherlock didn't respond. "Well?" Sherlock stopped and opened a door before leading her in.

"Well what?" He asked sounding bored. Kitty pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips, wincing at the pain it caused.

"You know what. Do you like her back?" Kitty asked exasperated. Sherlock turned her around and pushed her onto the table of the x-ray machine.

"I don't _**like**_ anyone." He sounded so disgusted by the question. Kitty scoffed at his brutish treatment and swatted at him, smacking him in the stomach.

"Be gentle." She snapped. Sherlock stared at her surprised for a moment before letting out a deep laugh that made Kitty flush red.

"Lovely, from the woman who just smacked me." He sounded uncharacteristically jovial. He took her hand and began pulling off her rings and slipping them into his pocket. Kitty had to fight back the shiver she got feeling his rough hands engulfing her own. Once he had gotten her rings off Sherlock put a hospital gown on the table next to her.

"You're going to have to undress." He stated it simply, which only made Kitty impossibly more red. Sherlock sighed impatiently. "You have the same anatomy as any other non mutated woman on earth. I assure you, I know enough about anatomy to know exactly what you have under your clothes. Really, your hesitation is ridiculous." Kitty glared at him but knew he was right. _Besides, it's not like he would be attracted to you, idiot. _Kitty sucker punched her self loathing subconscious and held out her injured arm. Sherlock took the end of it in his large hands and began to tug at the soft red cloth. Kitty winced and let out a gasp of pain as she bent her arm out of the stretched sleeve. It was startling how the sound had made Sherlock's stomach twist. Sherlock didn't waste any time in getting her undressed and into the hospital gown, before laying her on the x-ray table. He laid a lead blanket over her abdomen and positioned her arm this way and that before disappearing to start the machine. A few minutes later he reappeared and sat her up, taking the led blanket and tossing it onto a chair in the corner.

"Now to get you clothed again." He sighed in an exasperated way that made Kitty want to hit him.

"Any normal man would be enjoying this." Kitty said bitterly. It wasn't like she wanted him to enjoy it but he didn't have to sound so annoyed by the process. Sherlock stood straighter and set his jaw.

"Would you like me to oggle you?" He asked, sounding as though he'd asked if she'd wanted tea. Kitty stiffened and crossed her arms, ignoring her injured limb's screaming protests. "I hadn't thought so." He paused. "I'd like to remind you that for any _**normal**_ man ignoring a beautiful feminine body when it's right in front of him is a bit of a chore. So please excuse me if I seem a bit strained." Kitty screwed her mouth shut and swallowed audibly. She was completely and utterly at a loss for words. Sherlock found himself intrigued by her response. "Now, be a good Kitty and hold out your arms." He knew he was being a foul person but he couldn't help but say her name a bit more sensually than usual. Kitty squeaked and slapped him hard across the face. He stumbled backwards surprised.

"Jesus, Sherlock!" She growled, embarrassed and pink from head to toe. "Don't say my _**name**_ like _**that!**_" Sherlock frowned and gave a sigh.

"I swear, the female sex is delusional as a whole." He grumbled before ignoring her protests and untying her gown and yanking it away. He didn't look at her except when absolutely necessary as he put her legs into her pants and shimmied them up and over her hips, or when he scooted her shirt down over her arms and head, to cover her slim waist and perfect breasts. Nope. He didn't peek at all.

When Sherlock and Kitty returned to the morgue with her x-rays neither one looked happy. Much to Molly's delight. John was astounded at how much she brightened up when Sherlock returned in a chilly mood, dragging Kitty behind him. Sherlock handed the x-ray scan to John.

"I'm sure you'll find, as I did, that the glass has been successfully removed." Sherlock's haughty behavior had returned full force.

"Looks that way." John said dismissively. "Did you two get into an argument?" Kitty turned a shade of pink John hadn't seen before but Sherlock simply continued

being Sherlock.

"I helped her change, she got upset when I didn't sound as excited as she'd hoped." Sherlock didn't sound at all interested in his own words. Kitty's mouth fell open and she took a sharp breath.

"Oh no you don't!" She hissed. "That is _**not**_ what happened." John looked over to Molly who had become as white as a sheet and looked as though she was going to be ill.

"You should have let Molly take her." John chided, while feeling strangely impressed by the detective for having the bullocks to do something like that.

"Anyway! I'm busy, very very busy. Please leave!" Molly rushed them all out of her morgue and slammed the doors shut behind them. John and Kitty both gave Sherlock looks of disapproval.


	4. Chapter 4

Back at the flat they were faced with an absolutely crazed . She'd been everywhere looking for them, not knowing if they had been hurt or not by the explosion. Kitty wrapped her arms around her grandmother and soothed her, much to the boy's relief. Sherlock couldn't stand how emotional women became.

"It's all okay, Gran. None of us are hurt." John gave Kitty a sharp look but she ignored him and continued to stroke her grandmother's hair. "We're all home safe and sound. John and Sherlock just took me to St. Bart's to meet Molly. She had a corpse for Sherlock to experiment on." The lies fell smoothly out of Kitty's mouth. She only hoped her grandmother hadn't been upstairs to the flat and seen her blood all over the floor. "I'm sorry I didn't call you right away."

"She had a pseudoseizure," John interjected. "So I'd like to keep an eye on her overnight to be sure she's alright." Mrs. Hudson nodded and released her tight hold on Kitty, a kerchief to her nose.

"Alright, if you think thats best." She sniffled. "I'll be down here, cleaning." Sherlock nodded everyones response for them and rushed Kitty up the steps before Mrs. Hudson became wise to the reality of the situation, while John stayed behind to calm her.

"You need to stop doing that, Sherlock." Kitty grumbled once they were in the upstairs flat. Sherlock stepped away from her and removed his coat, tossing it onto the couch.

"Doing what?" Sherlock griped. He had the urge to irritate her. Kitty groaned and sat on the couch, and then sprang right back up again when she realized she'd sat on something.

"Pushing me around, and throwing your coat about like a little boy." Kitty grabbed up the coat and began feeling it. The thick, heavy wool was scratchy against her fingers, but there was a silkyness to it. "This coat is black isn't it?" She asked curiously. Sherlock was surprised by her question.

"You can identify a garment's color by feeling it?" Sherlock asked, admittedly impressed. He could do the same but he'd never met anyone else who could.

"Of course I can." She said insulted. "How else am I supposed to tell." Sherlock shook his head at her defensiveness and began searching about for a mop and broom to shove at John the instant he returned. Kitty brought the collar of his coat to her face and took a deep breath. It smelled like rain, and old spice and… cigarettes? "Sherlock... " Kitty's brows were knit together and she was gnawing on her lip.

"Yes?" He said, paying her little mind.

"I thought John said you'd quit smoking." Sherlock froze before slowly turning to her. He watched as realization dawned on her face. He expected her to start attacking him for his weakness and tell John but she didn't. "I won't tell him." She said with a soft smile. "I am curious why you fell off the wagon though." He watched as her hands continued to search his coat. "Jesus, how tall are you?" She asked feeling the distance between the bottom hem and the collar. Before Kitty was able to comprehend what was happening the coat disappeared from her hands and they had been gently placed on a face. "Sherlock?" She squeaked out in surprise. Her only answer was the nod of the face where her hands had been placed. Her heart rate skyrocketed. Very cautiously she took his face to memory. She'd done it to many people but something felt terrifyingly intimate about doing it to Sherlock. He was very tall, and his cheekbones were high. His jaw wasn't particularly square, as her father had been but was more refined. He was utterly silent. Curiosity got the best of her and she ran her fingers through his hair. It was curly. Sherlock shivered before stepping away and leaving an awkward space between them. "Sorry." She said with a frown.

"No." He said sounding a bit shaken. "It was... fascinating." John started clomping up the stairs and Sherlock put distance between them. Kitty could barely hear his footsteps. He's like an enormous cat. She mused. Then her subconscious came forward. I wonder if he purrs?

"John, where is the broom?" Sherlock demanded, his back to Kitty. John looked at him confused.

"You're going to sweep?" John asked, sounding as though Sherlock had asked for a pretty pink tutu.

"Of course he isn't," Kitty chuckled. "I'll sweep, John, don't worry about it." Kitty picked up Sherlock's coat off the floor and set it on the sofa. John shook his head violently.

"No, no, no. You need to rest, and to get better." John commanded. Kitty's eyes narrowed and her face looked as though she was ready to kill.

"John, I appreciate that you're taking care of me, but if I am going to spend any amount of time in this bachelor pad I'm damn well going to clean it." Her voice sounded deceptively sweet but the threat was there, thinly veiled by her smile. John stared at her utterly shocked by her change of mood and found himself at a loss for words. Sherlock finally found the broom he'd been looking for and walked over to Kitty before wrapping her hand around the broom handle. She was startled for a moment but smiled graciously.

"Thanks, Babe." She used the familiar term without thinking about it. She called all of her friends 'Babe' so it didn't really hit her that it might be considered strange.

"Are you blushing?" John blurted out. Kitty knit her brows together confused. "Not you," John said in response to her look. "Sherlock." The detective whipped around and disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"What did I do?" Kitty couldn't follow that man's moods worth a damn.

"Did I miss something between you too?" John asked sounding both pleased and frustrated at once. Kitty was startled.

"What?" She had no idea where that had come from.

"You just made the most emotionless man I've ever met blush." John stated, not bothering to hide his astonishment. Kitty laughed and shook her head.

"You're funny, John." She didn't believe him. Sherlock Holmes couldn't possibly possess a blush button. Without anymore thought to John, Kitty quickly braided her hair and set about sweeping up the broken glass. She could hear it crunching, and clattering as she moved. She was extremely systematic with her movements, imagining in her mind that she was painting a wall and picturing each stroke as a splash of color. When she had thoroughly swept the floor John spoke up.

"I'm going to the store to get milk. Would you like anything?"

Kitty smiled and nodded.

"Grab some pasta, alfredo sauce, and a few chicken breasts please. I'd like to make dinner later." John must have nodded at her because he left without replying. She had grown used to inserting gestures like that into a conversation whenever there was silence in place of an answer. Kitty put her hands on her hips and thought for a moment. Now where would they keep the dust pan?

"I assume you'll be needing the dust pan." Sherlock's voice appeared from very near to Kitty and made her jump and shriek. She could have sworn she'd heard him snigger.

"God dammit, Sherlock!" She hissed, clutching her chest. "Don't do that!"

"Do what? It isn't my fault you failed to notice me." Sherlock sounded as though he was sitting in his chair, which Kitty had been right next to for some time. Kitty glared at him and they fell silent. Neither of them were quite sure what to say. Sherlock's arm, which he would later claim had moved of it's own accord, reached up and wrapped around Kitty, yanking her into his lap.

"What are you doing?" Kitty squeaked, both peeved and surprised. He was warm, and firm underneath her, causing her to flush and her stomach to jump into her throat. She'd had boyfriends but had never sat in their laps, so sitting in a man's lap was completely foreign to her.

"Experimenting." The way his voice curled innocently around the word made Kitty want to do him harm for the third time that day.

"I'm not a severed head!" Kitty grumbled, trying to stand, but Sherlock held her fast, his strong arms tightening around her waist.

"As I'm painfully aware." Sherlock growled. It was a deep rumbly sound that did an ungodly thing to Kitty's insides. He was silent for a moment, considering how her close proximity made the muscles in his stomach tighten. "I must be allergic to you." He didn't feel as jovial as he sounded. He didn't like the conclusions he was coming to about the correlation between his recent stomach ailment and Miss Hudson.

"The feeling is mutual." Kitty mumbled, pinching her eyes shut and trying to calm the nerves in her stomach. Sherlock took Kitty's chin in his hand and turned her to face him.

"Open your eyes." He punctuated his words with a note of demand that made Kitty want to melt. She didn't want to react to this strange man, but hell if she could stop herself. Her eyes fluttered open and Sherlock examined them. They were fully dilated and her breathing was shallow. He felt his own body tighten like one of the string's on his violin. "You're aroused, Kitty." He was surprised at how strained his own voice sounded. He was used to having complete control over himself and she was taking that ability away from him.

"What are you gonna do about it?" She retorted, her voice soaked with a shocking amount of sass. Kitty couldn't believe she'd said it. Sherlock felt himself snap. He pressed his lips hard against hers, one of his hands grabbing her braid and tugging at it. Kitty gasped against his lips, almost causing him to pull back but she pressed herself against him and nipped at his bottom lip. Any chance she'd had of him releasing her flew out the window. His free arm snaked underneath her and lifted her so that she was straddling his lap causing them both to groan. Kitty felt electricity over every inch of her. They kissed hungrily, Kitty's hands tangled into Sherlock's curls and gripped them. Sherlock inhaled sharply, startling Kitty. She released his curls but he gave her braid a tug and shook his head.

"Don't you dare stop." He growled. Then his lips were on her neck, leaving hot, delicious kisses all over her flesh. Kitty gripped tightly onto his curls and pressed her hips against him. Her thoughts were completely erased by the feeling of his hands, and lips on 'd never thought a man could want her as she was, let alone that anything like this could happen. The boyfriends she'd had in the past had only wanted her money. She was completely mentally unprepared for it and she found herself lacking the control to make it stop. But do I really want it to? Her subconscious purred.

Then everything came to a screeching halt.

"Oh Jesus." John gasped, dropping whatever groceries he'd been carrying. Kitty yelped and tried to jump up but Sherlock held her fast. Someone may as well have dumped a bucket of cold water on them. Sherlock was giving John a death glare, but his voice was soft as he spoke.

"For god's sake, Kitty, we're grown adults, not a pair of unruly teenagers." Kitty flushed and felt ashamed of herself. She pushed away from Sherlock and slapped his hands away when he tried to pull her down again.

"Doesn't anything embarrass you?" She snapped, as she tried to right herself. Her shirt was pulled up to an indecent level and her hair was a tangled mess. Sherlock frowned at her before directing his fury at John.

"You have horrible timing." He growled. Kitty's subconscious did a dance at the sound of his frustration but she mentally slapped herself and tried to control her pounding heart rate.

"Me?" John yelled, absolutely astounded. "I'm not exactly the one taking advantage of our house guest!" His second sentence was hushed so that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't hear but he made it clear just how furious he was. Sherlock rolled his eyes and straightened his wrinkled shirt.

"Oh please, John, we both know you would have if she hadn't been attracted to me." Sherlock's nonchalance sparked a fury like which hell hath not.

"Sherlock!" Kitty shrieked at him. Sherlock glowered at her.

"I'm simply stating fact." He didn't sound at all sorry. Kitty's mouth fell open at how infuriating he was. She couldn't even believe she had just been tangled up with him.

"Who says I'm attracted to you." She snapped, her hands balling into fists. She heard Sherlock snigger.

"I should hope you don't kiss men whom you find unatractive that way." Sherlock sounded too cocky for his own good. Kitty opened her mouth to yell at him again but just ended up throwing her hands in the air with a frustrated groan and stomped into the kitchen where she began to clean furiously.

"So what brought all this on then?" John chewed the words out. Sherlock looked at him with a devilish grin that made John fight the urge to shoot him.

"I believe we were discussing the dust pan."

For the next few hours John forced his frustrations onto the daily newspaper and Kitty scrubbed the kitchen within an inch of it's life. Sherlock seemed to be the only one in a relatively good mood. He'd taken up his violin and began playing. Kitty grumbled to herself as she scrubbed horrendous piles of dishes and worked her way around the kitchen. She scolded herself over and over again. She was a grown woman, not some hormonal school girl. She was horrified that she had just made a pretty little trollop out of herself. She didn't even like the man! That thought brought on a whole new wave of fury. The innocent cup she'd been scrubbing for nearly ten minutes would have cried out should it have been animated. Sherlock Holmes doesn't like anybody. She cruelly reminded himself. How many other girls has he done that to anyway? She was filled to the brim with anger and self loathing. Every foul name for a lady of the evening flew through her mind and inflicted more self hatred then she had felt in awhile. I will not do that again.

She rinsed the cup and set it on the drying rack next to the sink. She stood there for several moments here hands on either side of the sink supporting her. The front of her red sweater was soaked with soapy water and her hair was still a mess. She wanted to shout and cry but she wasn't going to allow herself that luxury. She pulled a pot off the drying rack and filled it with water before setting it to boil. Then she washed her hands and grabbed a cutting board and a knife. The chicken didn't deserve the amount of brutality she put into slicing it but she was too steamed to slow down.

About twenty minutes later she had calmed down a bit and the chicken alfredo was done.

"Dinner's ready." Kitty called, sounding more relaxed. Sherlock had ignored her cleaning frenzy rather successfully but he hadn't missed the message.

"Did you touch my experiments?" Sherlock eyed the kitchen table suspiciously looking for any sign that she'd touched anything.

"Seeing as how you have a severed head and several digits in your fridge, and are good friends with the woman who runs the morgue, no." Kitty's tone sounded frustrated, but not so much so as before. Sherlock was satisfied with her answer, and set his violin on the shelf. "Why in the hell do you have a severed head anyway?" Kitty asked as she began dishing the meal onto three plates.

"I'm measuring the rate of coagulation of saliva after death." Sherlock grinned when Kitty gave a disgusted shudder. "I should have thought a biologist would have a stronger stomach." Kitty paused and shook her head.

"I'm not going to give you the pleasure of telling me how you know that." Kitty grumbled. "Besides I don't bring experiments home and put them in my fridge!"

"Well where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock said sounding exasperated. "You don't mind do you?" Sherlock could have cared less if she did or not. "Besides, you couldn't possibly bring your experiments home. I'm sure your assistant doesn't make house calls to describe the data to you."

"It's your fridge." Kitty gave a disinterested shrug. She was going to ignore that last bit. She grabbed two plates and two sets of silverware and took the boys their food. John accepted it readily, but Sherlock ignored it.

"I don't eat, anything I don't cook." Sherlock taunted her. Kitty frowned and put her free hand on her hip.

"If that were true, Mr. Holmes you would have died of starvation years ago." She simply waited until he begrudgingly took the food.

"This is delicious, Kitty." John said between mouthfuls. Kitty smiled her thanks and went into the kitchen to grab her own food.

"What are you doing here Mycroft?" Kitty was startled by the blatant loathing in Sherlock's voice and ducked back out of the kitchen into the living room. A man wearing outrageously expensive cologne had come into the flat with steps as quiet as Sherlock's

"Ah, Miss Hudson, pleased to meet you." A cordial voice greeted her. The man took her hand and kissed it politely. "I'm Mycroft Holmes, my informants have told me quite a lot about you." Kitty tugged her hand away from the man and backed up a bit. He just screamed slimy, and had he said his surname was Holmes? In a moment Sherlock was between them, Kitty could sense that his usually unphased demeanor was replaced by outrage.

"I asked you what you were doing here." Sherlock's voice sounded cordial but behind it was thinly veiled disgust.

"Can't I simply visit my dear, little brother?" A long awkward silence strung out.

"Good lord," Kitty groaned. She couldn't stand one Holmes, but two?

"No." Sherlock stated simply.

"Shame," Mycroft chimed. "Something smells heavenly. You wouldn't happen to have a spare plate?" Mycroft moved past Sherlock and brazenly sat in his chair. Kitty had only made enough for three but she had been raised to never deny a guest a meal.

"Certainly." She said with a smile, before disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing a moment later with her own plate, which she handed to Mycroft.

"My, my what an angel." Mycroft praised as though he were speaking to a toddler. Kitty ignored him, gave a polite smile, and sat on the couch. A moment later a plate was set in her lap and Sherlock sat stiffly next to her on the couch.

"You're supposed to eat this, Sherlock." She said with a frown.

"I've lost my appetite." Sherlock grumbled. Kitty shrugged and began eating. She wasn't in the mood to argue.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" John asked, sounding every bit as awkward as the room felt.

"I have a case I need you to look into, Sherlock, that is of national importance." Mycroft's tone didn't sound at all interested in what he was saying. Must run in the family. Kitty thought. Leave it to a Holmes to be bored by a case of national importance.

"I can't." Sherlock stated without a second thought. Kitty almost choked on her food. Sherlock began plucking out random notes on his violin making Kitty cringe.

"Can't?" Mycroft mimed back.

"The stuff I've got on is too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock plucked out another hateful note.

"Nevermind your usual trivia, this is of national importance." Mycroft sounded rankled by his brother's refusal. Yet another aggravating wang rang out.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock asked, his voice thick with falsified concern. Kitty swatted his arm.

"Fine." Mycroft spat back. Somehow they managed to sound cordial despite the fact that they obviously hated each other. "Perhaps you can persuade him, Miss Hudson."

"What?" Kitty and Sherlock blurted out in unison. Sherlock's incessant plucking had stopped.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft's tone made Kitty bristle in offense.

"There's a certain charm to a man who knows where he stands." Kitty replied. She felt oddly protective of Sherlock. His brother, no matter how polite he seemed, was being a complete and utter jackass. If there was one thing Kitty didn't abide it was bullying.

"If you're so keen why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock began making noise once more, the sound of a grin clear in his voice.

"No,no,no,no I can't possibly spend any amount of time away from the office, especially with the Korean elections so…" Mycroft's sentence dropped off and Sherlock fell quiet. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this requires… legwork." The disdain in his voice was evident and it almost made kitty chuckle. "I'm sorry, Miss Hudson. How was the sofa?" Kitty frowned, her amusement gone.

"How- oh never mind." John sighed, setting his empty plate aside.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became… pals." Mycroft's attention had switched to John and Kitty realised she had been clutching her plate. Sherlock discreetly brushed a hand over her's in what could have been taken as a reassuring gesture. "What's he like to live with? Hellish I imagine." Kitty frowned and stood. She took everyone's empty plates into the kitchen and began washing the dishes, a keen ear on the conversation in the next room.

"I'm never bored." Hohn answered. Always the diplomat. Kitty smiled inwardly.

"Good! That's good isn't it?" Mycroft sounded disgustingly pleased with the answer. Sherlock's plucking had quieted. Kitty wondered if he was bothered by his brother's rudeness. Mycroft stood and Kitty heard paper's shuffled, followed by the whistle of air as Sherlock pointed his violin bow at his brother. Mycroft sighed and moved on to John. "Andrew West. Known as 'Westie' to his friends. Civil servant, found dead on the tracks this morning, his head smashed in." Kitty felt her stomach jump to her throat. What an awful way to go.

"Jumped in front of a train?" John plied.

"Seems the logical assumption." Mycroft took up the tone of an adult talking to a toddler once again.

"But?" Kitty interjected from the kitchen.

"But?" Mycroft mimed once more. Kitty shrugged and set down the last dish in the drying rack.

"You wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." She clarified as she dried her hands on her sweater and re entered the living room. She heard Sherlock give a pleased chuckle and fought back a rising blush. There was a long pause.

"The M.O.D is working on a new missile defense system. 'Bruce Partington Program' it's plans for it were on a memory stick." John snickered.

"That wasn't very clever."

"It's not the only copy." Mycroft sounded extremely offended. "But it is secret… and missing."

"Top secret?" John was egging Mycroft on, much to Kitty';s amusement.

"Very."

"So you think West took it?" Kitty hadn't meant to throw in her two cents worth but ti was an obvious line of thought.

"She is sharp isn't she?" Mycroft purred in approval. " We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." His tone took up a bit of urgency."You've got to find those plans Sherlock. Don't make me order you." Kitty felt her blood rise at Mycroft's audacity. Big brother or not, no one should be so bossy. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"I'd like to see you try." Sherlock's voice was deep with his challenge. Kitty fought back thoughts of how he had used that same voice on her only an hour or so before.

"Think it over." Mycroft turned, "Goodbye, John, Miss Hudson." He paused in front of Kitty for a moment. "Do see that he behaves for me." He whispered in a conspiratorial way. "I'll see you

very soon." He stated before stepping out the door. Sherlock began a ruckus of sharp notes to chase his brother out, and didn't stop until Mycroft was down the stairs.

"That was unpleasant." Kitty grimaced and shook off the heeby jeebys she had been left with.

"Why'd you lie?" John asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed absentmindedly.

"You've got nothing on." Sherlock hopped up and reclaimed his rightful seat. "Not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding." John was intent upon getting an answer.

"What happened to the wall?" Kitty interjected.

"He spray painted a smiley face on it and shot it up." John pushed out the answer as a side note.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock breathed in a dejected tone.

"Why did you tell your brother you were busy?" John was outright drilling him

"That's what that noise was." Kitty recalled hearing a lot of banging about a day or two ago but she hadn't thought it was gunshots.

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock grumbled.

"Oh- I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." John sounded tickled by the idea.

A phone rang, Kitty recognized it as Sherlock's and he patted about before finally finding it and answering.

"Sherlock Holmes." Kitty noticed that he lowered his voice a bit before answering the phone, as if to insure he sounded especially masculine to whoever had called. What a peacock. She thought. "Of course. How could I refuse?" Kitty's interest was piqued by his response. What could make Sherlock Holmes unable to refuse? Sherlock hung up and stood. "Lestrade. I've been summoned, coming?"

"Ifff you want me to." John stood as he spoke.

"Of course- I'd be lost without my blogger?" The two men readied themselves to leave. "Come along, Kitty, we don't have all day." Kitty jumped and followed the two men out.

"You want me to come?" She didn't bother to hide her surprise. She was also a bit excited, but who wouldn't be?

"You may prove useful." He said with an audible shrug. Kitty grabbed her blue coat from the hall and pulled it on as she hurried to keep up with the two long-legged men.

A surprisingly short Taxi ride later they arrived at Scotland Yard. Lestrade was waiting for them.

"Hello, Kitty." He gave her a nod and a friendly grin. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he began to lead the way. Kitty Stuck close to John, her arm wrapped companionably through his.

"Apparently I might be useful." She gave a shrug as they passed through a crowded office. She tried not to catch snippets of every conversation they passed but it was nearly impossible.

"You like the funny cases don't you?" Lestrade began. "The surprising ones."

"Obviously." Sherlock had changed modes. He'd been silent as a crypt in the taxi and his demeanor was focused. Like an animal on the hunt.

"Then you're gonna love this." Lestrade stated sounding ruefully sure of himself. They left the large crowded room and stepped into Lestrade's private office. "That explosion."

"Gas leak, yes?" Sherlock interjected.

"No."

"No?" Sherlock sounded surprised. Kitty imagined that she wouldn't hear that tone in his voice often.

"No, made to look like one." Kitty raised her brows in interest.

"What?" John blurted out.

"There was hardly anything left of the place, except a strong box. A very strong box, and inside it was this."

"And you haven't opened it." Sherlock didn't make it sound like a question.

"Well it's addressed to you, isn't it?" Lestrade replied.

"What is it John?" Kitty whispered to the doctor.

"Looks like a bit of post." John answered softly. Kitty nodded.

"We've x-rayed it. It's not booby trapped."

"How reassuring." Sherlock didn't bother hiding his snobbish tone. Kitty Heard the ruffle of paper, and assumed, whatever the item was, it had been picked up.

"Nice stationary, Bohemian." Sherlock had only just begun examining the item and was mumbling his deductions to himself.

"What?" Lestrade hadn't heard him.

"The stationery is from the Czech Republic." Kitty clarified.

"Jesus, are you sure you're blind?" Lestrade said jokingly.

"Of course she is, that's why here ears were sharp enough to hear me." Sherlock grumbled. "No fingerprints?" Sherlock pushed onward.

"No." Kitty released Johns arm and clasped her hands behind her back. Okay, keep you mouth shut and just listen. She told herself.

"She used a fountain pen. Parker- Dewer fold, iridium nib." Kitty's became openly impressed.

"She?" John was trying to keep up.

"Obviously." Sherlock stated.

"Obviously?" John repeated, a note of hurt in his voice. Sherlock didn't seem keen to answer.

"Women and men write much differently from each other, also whoever wrote it was wearing a peach scented hand cream." Kitty spoke up. She couldn't let Sherlock have too much fun making people feel like idiots. There was an irritation filled pause before Sherlock cut open the envelope and poured its contents into his gloved hand.

"That's- that's the phone- the pink phone!" Kitty could hear the shock in John's voice

"What you mean the phone from 'A Study in Pink?' "

"Well obviously it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like-. 'A Study in Pink'! You read his blog?" Sherlock's voice had begun the sentence thoughtful but mid way he became almost alarmed.

A woman entered the room, she smelled like bad coffee and hair care products.

"Course I read his blog, we all do." Lestrade made it sound as though the question was ridiculous. "Do you really not know that the earth goes around the sun?" Kitty cracked up at the idea. The woman behind her snorted in disdain. Kitty shot a glare at her. A good hearted chuckle was one thing but a bitch snort was another.

"Who's this then, Freak?" The woman apparently decided that opening her big mouth would be a good idea. The smell of hard Martinis came off her in a haze. "Thing two? You've got the whole set now, don't you, Freak?"

"Who in the hell are you calling, freak?" Kitty snapped. "You're the bitch who is so hung over she can't walk a straight line. Maybe next time you should use some mouthwash instead of coffee so that you're not spewing aerosolized martini mix." Kitty straightened herself and waited for a response. None came. The woman just rushed out.

"I can see why you keep her around." Lestrade chuckled.

"It isn't the same phone." Sherlock continued as if nothing had happened. "This one's brand new, someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means, your blog has a far wider readership." A moment later a computerized voice began to chirp.

" You have one new message." Then four short beeps and a long beep followed.

"Was that it?" John asked confused.

"No that's not it." Sherlock sounded as though he was chewing on his lip. Then the phone dinged to notify them of a message.

"Well what the hell are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade didn't sound pleased. Kitty felt all at once frustrated with her blindness. How on earth was she supposed to be helpful if she couldn't see? "An estate agent's photo and the bloody greenwich pips?"

"It's a warning" Kitty could hear an edge of excitement in Sherlock's voice.

"A warning?" John repeated.

"Some secret societies used to send melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us that it's going to happen again." His deep voice rose as he became more intrigued. He took in a sharp breath. "I've seen this place before!" He announced before before stalking out of the room. He didn't leave however without catching Kitt's hand and stringing her along behind him.

"Hang on, what's going to happen again?" John asked Kitty's question for her. Sherlock simply paused for a moment and turned to them.

"Boom!" His voice had a gruesome amount of excitement in it. All too late Kitty began to wonder what she had gotten herself into.


	5. Chapter 5

"Open the basement flat." Sherlock commanded when they arrived back at Baker St. The three men followed behind Kitty and waited as she unlocked the door to the basement flat where she had been staying.

"Why do you need to go in the basement?" Kitty didn't understand what they could possibly want down there.

"The estate agent's photo was of the basement flat." Sherlock explained before moving past her and through the door. Kitty let the men pass and entered the flat last. She felt the temperature drop as she entered.

"A pair of trainers, and a Teddy Bear?" Lestrade blurted out.

"What?" Kitty was confused. She hadn't brought a pair of trainers, or a Teddy bear. She hadn't owned a Teddy bear since she was eight years old.

"Placed directly in front of the fireplace." Sherlock clarified in a thought that was deep with concentration. "It looks as though both items have been well worn, although the shoes appear to be new at a glance, the laces have been replaced several times."

An unfamiliar ringtone began to chirp and made everyone in the room tense. Sherlock pulled the pink phone out of his pocket and answered.

"Hello?" He sounded almost afraid.

"H-hello…. sexy." A woman's voice came over the phone. She sounded like she was crying.

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked gently.

"I've sent you… a little… puzzle." The woman continued. Kitty's stomach had become a horrid ball of knots. The woman was reading those words. Kitty remembered way back, when she had made a phone call that must have sounded very much like this one. "Just to say 'Hi'."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?" Sherlock tried again, but Kitty knew he wouldn't get a straight answer.

"I-I'm not crying. I'm t-typing, and this…. stupid… bitch… is reading it out." The woman's voice rose into a choking sob as she finished. Kitty hadn't wanted to be right but she was.

"The curtain rises." Sherlock whispered. Kitty frowned and wondered what he could possibly mean.

"What?" John had heard him too.

"Nothing." Sherlock tried to brush it off.

"No. What did you mean?" Kitty demanded.

"I've been expecting this for some time." Sherlock breathed.

"T-twelve hours… to solve my puzzle… Sherlock, or… I'm going… to be… so naughty." The woman let out another heart wrenching sob and the line went dead.

Kitty felt like she was going to be sick. The room was full of silence for a long stretch of time before Sherlock cleared his throat and picked something up.

"The Teddy Bear's arm is missing, chewed off by a dog, but it was sewn up. Obviously it's extremely sentimental. The child appears to have mended it herself." Kitty felt as though she was going to pass out.

"Are you alright, Kitty?" John asked, sounding concerned. "You look white as a sheet."

"Which arm?" Kitty blurted out. There was another long pause before anyone answered her.

"The left." Sherlock sounded curious.

"Most of his nose is missing isn't it?... And some short hair on his back where the little girl gave him a haircut?" The room suddenly felt too small for Kitty.

"How'd you know that?" John didn't bother hiding his confusion.

"That bear is mine." Her voice was barely audible. Sherlock took the two paces that were between them.

"Kitty, when did you last have this bear?" He asked gently, but the question came out as an accusation. Kitty slowly moved her blind eyes up to point at his face.

"Sixteen years ago…. when… when I was abducted." Kitty's hands began to shake and she backed away from Sherlock. She wanted to be out of that room. It wasn't safe, it was too tight. Her breathing became panicked and she started to become dizzy. A strong hand steadied her.

"John, we need to get her upstairs." Sherlock ordered, taking Kitty under his arm and beginning to lead her to the door, but Kitty didn't make it that far. She passed out.

Kitty had a pounding headache. For the longest time all she was aware of was the headache, then her senses slowly began to awaken. She could hear muffled voices, and smell the nostril burning stench of cleaning chemicals. With a groan she slowly tried to lift her good arm to her face, but a sharp tug in the crook of her arm stopped her. She touched the spot tentatively to find an I.V inserted there.

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. The muffled voices stopped.

"How are you feeling Kitty?" John asked, a mixture of concern and relief in his voice.

"What in the hell are you giving me?" She growled at the doctor. _Lord help him if he was stupid enough to give me narcotics. _She thought bitterly.

"Calm down, it's only a blood transfusion. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did with so little in you." John put his fingers to her wrist and checked her pulse. "Your heart rate has settled down." He noted. Kitty slowly readjusted herself in the uncomfortable chair she found herself in.

"Where are we?" Kitty groaned. Wherever they were the lights were hurting her eyes.

"The morgue at St. Bart's." John informed. "You've been out for almost an hour… When was the last time you slept, Kitty?"

"Leave her alone, John." Sherlock's voice came from not so far away. He sounded like he was concentrating on something. John shook his head and sighed in frustration.

"So-... Who do you suppose it was?" John picked up the earlier conversation.

"Hmm?" Sherlock thrummed in response.

"The woman on the phone. The crying woman."

"Oh she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage… No lead there." Sherlock still wasn't even paying the conversation his full attention. Kitty felt herself color as rage rose in her.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." The disappointment in John's voice matched Kitty's.

"Then you'll be of little use to her." Sherlock retorted. Kitty could understand his line of logic but somethings just couldn't be held as logical. There was a woman, crying, and afraid, somewhere in London. A buzzing noise went off.

"A-are they _**trying**_ to trace it? Trace the call?" Kitty could hear the frustration in John's voice.

"Bomber's too smart for that." Sherlock shot back. His phone went off somewhere very near to him. "Pass me my phone, Kitty."

"Where is it?" Kitty wasn't sure if she'd be able to make the journey over to him but she figured she'd try. She hated feeling weak.

"Jacket." He stated simply. Kitty paused, wondering if he was joking or not. "Well?" She shook her head in disbelief but stood and pulled the I.V tower along with her. She held her hand out and felt it brush against him. She slowly ran her hands over the fabric of his jacket, looking for his pocket. She didn't deny herself the chance to memorize him either. He was lean and had a natural layer of muscle. "Careful!" He snapped when she bumped his arm. He seemed edgy. She decided to stop messing around and ducked her hand into his breast pocket.

"Lazy asshole." Kitty grumbled. Her hand found the phone and she pulled it out before handing it to John.

"Text… from your brother." John relayed. Kitty stiffly began the journey back to her chair.

"Delete it." Sherlock demanded.

"Delete it?" John sounded like a parrot. Kitty found her chair and sank back into it.

"Missile plans are out of the country. Nothing we can do about it now."

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine." Kitty griped. Sherlock looked at the sarcastic woman with a glare before returning to his work. She had just made it extremely difficult for him to concentrate.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you… eight times!" John announced. "Must be important."

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock growled in frustration.

"His what?" John reluctantly took the bait.

"Mycroft never texts when he can talk." Kitty could tell that the last thing Sherlock wanted to be doing was explaining himself. "Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, and got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The real mystery is this, why is my brother determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die." John's voice had gone quiet with restraint.

"What for?" Sherlock was dead serious. "This hospital is full of people dying, _**Doctor.**_ Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?" Kitty was startled by the cruelty of his words. An obnoxious beep rang out and Sherlock jumped up. "Ahah!"

"Any luck?" Molly chirped shortly after bursting through the doors. Sherlock fell back into his seat unhappily. He didn't want Molly there.

"Oh yes!" Sherlock purred. Kitty wanted to hit him for using that tone on the poor girl. Another person burst in.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know-" The doofy sounding man was cut off by Molly shouting.

"Jim!" She sounded startled. "Hi! Come in, come in!" She was all at once too giddy for Kitty's taste. She was being painfully noisey. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." Kitty wondered if Molly knew how her voice waivered like a fangirl's when she'd said Sherlock's name. 'Jim' acknowledged him with and 'ah'. "And ummm.."

"John Watson… Hi." Poor John sounded peeved.

"Hi. So you're Sherlock Holmes." The man sounded like he was salivating. Kitty felt like a giggle was going to rise in her throat but she suppressed it. "Molly's told me all about you." _I'm sure she has._ Kitty thought, feeling sorry for the poor girl. "Are you on one of your cases?"

"J-jim works in I.T upstairs. That's how we met. A sort of office romance." Kitty was glad she had been ignored, otherwise someone might have noticed her slap her palm to her forehead. The man reeked of pomade and a floral body spray. He either couldn't smell himself or he was gay.

"Gay." Sherlock deducted just as Kitty had.

"Sorry, what?" Molly sounded instantly offended.

"Hey!" Kitty chimed in. "Nice to meet you!" Kitty interjected, saving Sherlock from an awkward explanation. She held out her hand and the man shook it. He didn't have a single callus. His hands were extremely soft in fact.

"Umm Hey." Sherlock joined in. He was doing a valiant job of trying to hide his amusement.

"Hey." The man mimicked in a state of awe. Then something metal clattered to the ground and he scrambled to pick it up. "Sorry, sorry!" Kitty groaned. "Well I'd better be off… I'll see you at the Fox, at six?"

"Yeah." Molly breathed. She was covering some emotion.

"Bye, it was nice to meet you." There was a long silence before John spoke.

"You too." Another awkward silence stretched on before Kitty heard the door open and close again.

"What do you mean, gay?" Molly couldn't just let it lie. "We're together?" She sounded so damned excited.

" And domestic bliss must suit you Molly, you've gotten on three pounds since I last saw you." Sherlock sounded so cordial but his words were cold.

"Sherlock!" Kitty hissed.

"Two and a half." Molly countered, sounding deflated.

"Mmmmm, three." Sherlock restated.

"He's not gay!" Kitty could hear the hurt straining Molly's voice. "Why do you have to go and spoil- He's not!"

"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock laughed at her.

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair!" John valiantly came to Molly's rescue but Sherlock wasn't to be stopped.

"You _**wash**_ your hair there's a difference. No, no. Tinted eyelashes, clear signs of contouring cream around the frown line, those tired colors to his eyes, then there's his underwear."

"His underwear?" Molly sounded both disgusted and confused. Kitty got up out of her chair, feeling utterly livid about the way Sherlock was treating the poor girl.

"Visible above the waistline, very visible, very particular brand, that plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number- " Kitty grabbed his arm, hard and held it firmly still.

"That's enough, Sherlock." Kitty sounded calm but her tone was firm, and unforgiving. " She's heard enough, you idiot." Kitty heard Molly turn around and rush out of the room and released Sherlock's hand.

"Charming, well done." John spouted sarcastically.

"I'm just saving her time, isn't that kinder?" He sounded as though he really didn't understand.

"Kinder? No, no, Sherlock _**that**_ was not kind."

"Not everybody can handle the truth." Kitty said gently. _Maybe he really doesn't understand?_

"That's ridiculous." Sherlock grumbled. He was quiet for a moment and Kitty hear the soft sound of rubber against something smoothe. Like a sneaker squeaking. "Go on then." He said smugly.

"Hmm? John replied.

"You know what I do, off you go." Sherlock was testing her. Kitty frowned at him.

"No." John answered for Kitty.

"Go on." Sherlock pressured.

'I'm not going to stand here so you can humiliate me." Kitty crossed her arms as she spoke.

"An outside eye, a second opinion, it's very useful to me." Sherlock countered.

"Yeah right." John murmured under his breath.

"Really!" Sherlock urged. Kitty sighed and held out her hand.

"I'll do it if John goes first." Kitty gripped the large shoe that was placed into her hand.

"What?" John sounded startled.

"You heard her, John. Wow us." Sherlock sounded utterly amused.

"If you're not nice I'm not doing it, Sherlock." Kitty warned. Kitty realized that he had effectively turned the conversation to something he was comfortable with. He had been outside of his comfort zone before and had changed the conversation to suit him. Kitty held the shoe out in John's direction. John cleared his throat and accepted it grudgingly.

"I don't know they're just a pair of shoes, t-trainers." He didn't like being under Sherlock's scrutiny and it was evident in his tone.

"Good." Sherlock encouraged. Kitty was surprised by the fact that he was being a good sport.

"Umm… They're in good nic." John continued hesitantly. "I'd say they were pretty new except the sole's been well worn. So the owner must have had them for awhile… Uhh, very eighty's, probably one of those retro designs."

"You're in sparkling form. What else?" Kitty almost chuckled at Sherlock's compliment to John. It had been lightly given but it would mean alot to John.

"Well they're quite big so a man's,... but… but, there's traces of a name inside in felt tip… Adult's don't write their names inside their shoes so these belong to a kid." John sounded almost optimistic by the time he was done.

"Excellent, what else?" Sherlock sounded pleased, but also like the cat who got the mouse.

"Uhhh… That's it." John ended.

"Very good." Sherlock praised. "Now give it to my sniffer dog and let her show her skills." Kitty wrinkled her nose at his comment about her being a sniffer dog but took the shoe from John's hand anyway. She ran her hands all over it, making a picture in her mind of the shoe. Sherlock watched as her brows knit together in concentration and she pinched her eyes shut.

"The laces have been replaced several times." Kitty thought aloud. "The eyelets are rough where the laces have been pulled through. The owner must have liked them a lot to wear out the laces

and replace them… My mom would have made me throw them out." Kitty felt very nervous, like she was taking an oral exam and had forgotten what she had been asked, but she was determined not to embarrass herself. She thought about what John had noticed and paid close attention. She took a delicate sniff of the shoe and sifted through the various scent in her mind. " Smells like… chlorine… eczema cream… and feet." She said the last part with a chuckle. She rubbed her hands along the bottom of the shoe and felt the wear and tear. "He walked on the insides of his feet." She commented absently. She gave the shoes one last feel and handed the shoe back to Sherlock. "There's mud on the soles but I'm sure you two already knew that." Her voice had gotten quieter and a bit shy sounding. She didn't like being under scrutiny, it made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear.

"How did we do?" John asked.

"Well you missed almost everything of importance, but Kitty wasn't far from the mark." Sherlock answered haughtily. Kitty reached out her arm and gave John an apologetic pat. His hopes must have been dashed. "Now, the owner _**loved**_ these, scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three- no four times. Even so there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers came in contact with them so he suffered from eczema." Sherlock gave Kitty a nudge of approval. " Shoes are well worn more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British made, twenty years old."

"Twenty years?" John blurted out incredulously. Kitty couldn't believe it either.

"They're not retro, they're original. Limited edition two blue stripes 1989."

"There's still mud on them. T-they look brand new!" John argued.

"Someone's kept them that way… Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles and that shows it's from Sussex with London mud overlaying it." Sherlock had gone outside Kitty's realm of the believable.

"How in the hell could you possibly know that?" Kitty wasn't prepared to believe his little magic trick without a thought line.

"Pollen, clear as a map for anyone who cares to look. So, the kid who wore these trainers put them on, came to London from Sussex, twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?" Kitty couldn't hold in her curiosity any longer.

"Something bad." Sherlock breathed. He saw John's look of confusion and continued. "Well he loved those shoes, remember, he'd never leave them filthy. He wouldn't leave them go unless he had too." Kitty felt a chill go down her spine at Sherlock's dower tone. "So a child with big feet gets-... oh." Sherlock barely spoke above a whisper.

"What?" John plied after a moment of silence.

"Carl Powers." He breathed.

"Sorry, who?" John was just as confused as Kitty then.

"Carl Powers, John." Sherlock sounded as though he were recalling something from a long time ago.

"What is it?" Kitty asked. She didn't like being left out of the loop.

"It's where I began." Sherlock said with an edge of fondness.

Kitty looked at him with a look of disbelief.

"Good god how old are you anyway?" Kitty asked sounding disgruntled. "You were investigating cases twenty years ago?"

"I was ten years old, Sniffer Dog." Kitty could practically hear Sherlock's eyes roll as he spoke.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She wasn't fond of the nickname.

"Everyone calls you Kitty." Sherlock hadn't clarified much with his answer.

"So?" Kitty was hoping for him to continue.

"I'm not everyone." He gave a shrug of his shoulder and stood. He gracefully turned Kitty around and walked her back over to her chair where he pushed her into the seat rather unceremoniously.

"I told you, you need to stop doing that." Kitty grumbled weakly.

"Then why do you always blush when I do?" Sherlock spoke very quietly so that only Kitty would hear. He began to remove the I.V that was stuck into her right arm.

"Because it's embarrassing." Kitty deflected. She hated being so transparent, especially to the man who used information as his weapon.

"Not what your heart rate is saying." Sherlock mumbled as he removed the I.V and stuck a cotton ball to the little puncture wound.

"Sherlock Holmes if you don't keep your deductions about me to yourself I'll call you Sherlie for the rest of your life!" She snapped. Her heart was being cruelly obvious as it pounded in her ears. Her ears burned when Sherlock laughed at her as he gave her a band aid.

"Unfortunately for you, your reactions are well worth the torment."

**Editor's Note: When writing a review, please be critical. For example, please write what you liked, what you didn't like, what could be added, or elaborated on, etc. Thank you very much and happy reading!**

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and followed! I really appreciate the time you've spent reading my stuff, and hope you enjoy it!**


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock solved the Carl Powers case quickly enough. He'd just locked himself up in the kitchen and demanded that Kitty move all of her things up to their flat, while John was out, in light of the fact that the basement flat was no longer deemed safe in his eyes. She was only staying another day or two, so spending her nights on their sofa wouldn't be so bad. She'd brought up her suitcase and set it in a corner where it would be out of the way. She'd been unable to find the Teddy bear. After searching the better part of an hour for it she simply had to resign herself to the fact that it had been taken in as evidence. _Of course it was taken._ She thought. _Sherlock Holmes is all business. _ Kitty Made her way back up the stairs to the second floor flat and sat herself down on the sofa. John had laid out a pillow and a sheet before he had gone out, and it's soft fabric rubbed against her hand. She absently traced circles on the pillow. She had to wonder what had happened to her that day. It had been ridiculously eventful, and tiring, but above all it had been exciting. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so excited about anything. Sure she had been excited about coming to London by herself but following John, and Sherlock about that day, getting to play detective... it had woken her up. No one back home would believe that she had survived an explosion or had a piece of her past just reappear as part of a bombing case. Kitty ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Truth be told, she didn't want to go home, but what choice did she have? She would have to leave Sherlock, John, and their adventures behind.

Sherlock burst out of the kitchen, a grin on his face. He couldn't wait to tell someone how he had figured it out, anyone really, and he almost brimmed over with it when he saw Kitty sitting on the couch, but he paused. She looked somehow distressed. He couldn't guess why, he had just solved the case and there had been no doubt in his mind that he would be able to, so she couldn't have been distressed about that. Could it have been the stuffed bear? As soon as she had reacted so negatively to it he had hidden it for safe keeping until he could focus his energies on solving the case that lay behind it. He wondered, perhaps if he should have given it back to her.

"What's the matter, Sniffer Dog?" He asked softly. She had heard him enter, but hadn't acknowledged his presence which was unusual for her. She always wanted to show everyone how adept she was, himself included.

"I'm going home in two days." She spoke the words amidst a deep sigh. Sherlock knit his brows together and looked at her intensely.

"I should think you'd be glad." He stated, watching her reaction very closely. "John said it would be good for you to go home and rest." Kitty rolled her unseeing eyes and laid her head against the back of the sofa.

"Then John hasn't met my mother." She was frustrated by what he had said.

"I assume she's smothering?" Sherlock really didn't have to assume. Kitty's demeanor had told him everything he had wanted to know about her mother.

"You assume correctly, Sherlie." A long silence stretched out between them.

"Is that all?" Sherlock couldn't believe that something as trivial as an overprotective mother would keep Kitty from returning home.

"Nope." Kitty popped the 'p' and lulled her head to the side. She seemed rather like a sleepy child in that moment.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Sherlock tapped his long slim fingers on his thigh and waited.

"You've… you've shown me that life doesn't _**have**_ to be mundane." She said with a shrug. She was downplaying her feelings rather badly. She didn't normally try to hide how she felt. Usually she would smack him or speak her mind.

"And that has made you unhappy about returning home?" He couldn't understand why it would make her want to stay. He'd gotten her taken to the morgue twice in one day, which was more than most people could ever say.

"Yes." She seemed to be feeling very monosyllabic. "Who'd want to leave behind a sexy british detective?" She spoke in a joking tone, but her statement made Sherlock feel uncomfortably pleased.

"I see." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I mean, Lestrade really is a charmer." She chuckled out her joke without thinking.

Sherlock stiffened almost immediately.

"What?" Sherlock snapped. Kitty lifted her head and pointed her sleepy eyes at him.

"Didn't think I meant you, did you?" She teased. Sherlock wasn't one to have an open temper, but his ego had just taken a huge blow. He stalked over to her on near silent steps and leaned over her his hands pressed against the couch on either side of her head.

"Is that so?" He growled, startling Kitty with how close he had gotten. "I'll have to rectify that."

Sherlock gripped her loose curls in his hand and tilted her head to the side, revealing her lily white neck. He pressed his lips to her pulse point and took in her scent. She smelled like Mint and strawberries. She let out a deceiving gasp and her hands grasped his shirt in tight little fists.

"Sh-Sherlock." She stammered, trying to collect her thoughts. He wouldn't allow her to gain any mental footing. He tugged on her hair gently, coaxing her to face him.

"Now, now, Kitty, don't spoil my fun." He purred before grazing her bottom lip with his teeth. Her entire body shivered underneath him deliciously. Kitty couldn't keep her thoughts straight. He'd barely done anything to her but he had completely addled her mind. _I should be mad at him!_ Her subconscious shouted. She pulled on his shirt, tugging him closer, causing him to kneel. _I shouldn't want to kiss him senseless! _ His free hand tucked under her and yanked her closer to him, pulling her down onto his lap so she was straddling him. Kitty was effectively pinned between Sherlock and the base of the couch. His chest pressed against hers, only a few layers of clothing between them. Kitty tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed his teasing lips against hers. He let out a low groan that made Kitty's stomach tighten and her flesh heat up. They kissed, gasping for air each time their lips parted for a m oment. Sherlock slipped his hand up the back of Kitty's shirt and felt her smooth skin beneath his calloused fingers. Kitty arched her back surprised by his touch.

"So, Kitty, is Lestrade _**really**_ the reason you want to stay?" He growled against her lips. Kitty shook her head wildly. She was completely and utterly at his mercy and Sherlock was sinfully delighted by it. He began giving her grazing bites down her jaw and relished in the noises she made. "Say it." He commanded, his deep voice thrumming in his chest.

"L-lestrade isn't why I- I want to stay!" She hissed as Sherlock began suckling at her neck. He left love bites that would be hard to cover up.

"Who then?" Sherlock asked, giving her a moment to breathe. He wanted her to tell him the truth.

Her blind, hazel eyes focused on him, and for a moment he could have sworn she was looking at him, really looking, but as quickly as the focus came, it left.

"Y-you." She gasped. Her chest was heaving, and her hair was still tangled around his hand.

"Say my name." He once more assumed the demanding tone that did such delicious things to Kitty and she shivered.

"Sherlock." She breathed. The sound of his name rolling off her tongue almost finished him, but he controlled himself. He had to stay in control of the situation, to stay above it. He was only proving a point after all.

"So you'll stay then?" he asked, sounding almost conversational as he trailed his fingertips down her back. Kitty shivered as he sent tingles down her spine.

"I-if-" Sherlock hushed her with his lips and gave a guttural growl. He wanted her answer but he wouldn't accept anything that she could weasel out of. He wanted to damn her with her own words.

"Yes, or no?" He demanded, gripping her bare hip and pressing himself against her.

"Yes." She squeaked. Sherlock smirked at his triumph and sat back, giving her space to regain her senses. Kitty was a sight to behold, cheeks bright red and auburn hair a mess.

"Good." He stated approvingly. Kitty raised her brows in surprise and made Sherlock chuckle. "Every detective needs a bloodhound." He gave a shrug and waited for Kitty to say something. He hadn't anticipated making himself feel vulnerable. He'd only wanted to unsettle her, the way he had earlier that day. It was fascinating how she'd go from being a strong opinionated woman, to being so delightfully flustered and malleable.

"I hate you." She grumbled half heartedly as her senses returned to her. Sherlock found himself wounded by her statement. "You shouldn't play with women like that." She scolded, as she pushed away from him and stood, leaving him on the floor.

"Women?" Sherlock blurted out confused. "What do you mean _**women**_?" He watched her as she rubbed her brow in frustration.

"I mean exactly what I said, Sherlock. I'm not stupid… You can't honestly expect me to believe I'm the only woman you've ever done that to." She sounded angry, and… was she actually hurt?

"You think I'm some sort of playboy?" Sherlock was flattered, but most women went running in the other direction when they saw him coming, other than Molly of course, but she wasn't nearly interesting enough to warrant his attention. Kitty scoffed and turned her back to him on her way to the kitchen as though it would shut him up. She was burning with embarrassment. After all of the self loathing she had put herself through earlier that day she had fallen victim to him just as easily. He'd manipulated her into saying she would stay and now that her head was clear of his intoxicating closeness she could see it for what it was. "I'm flattered by your faith in my charm, but I've only ever done that to one woman." Sherlock called after her.

"Who was she?" Kitty asked, not fully paying attention to him. She was still deep in her own world of scolding. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her and stood, following after her.

"Dear god, Sniffer Dog, I had thought you were smarter than that." Sherlock grumbled. "If I've only ever done it to _**one**_ woman, and I've just done it to _**you**_, what can we deduce from that information?" He was annoyed, and felt the need to spell it out for her. Kitty had leaned her back against the sink and was glowering at him, arms crossed in the usual stance that meant he had angered her.

"You can't be serious." She snapped, frustration coloring her tone.

"As the plague." He snapped back, just as John re entered the flat. The two continued to glare at each other until John clumsily blundered into their argument. "John, tell Miss Hudson how many women I've brought to the flat." Sherlock demanded, pulling John 'surprise' first into their argument, without taking his icy glare off Kitty.

John looked at him startled and then looked at Kitty.

"Nope, no way am I getting into one of your domestics." John backpaddled, trying not to get tangled up in the dispute.

"Oh, go on, John, you're my flat mate, give her the facts." Sherlock ordered in a tone that was anger inducing. John sighed and relinquished himself to the fact that he was well and truly stuck.

"I-I dunno, none?" John stated, sounding every bit as uncomfortable as he felt.

Kitty's glare faltered for a moment but she regained her posture and shook her head.

"There." Sherlock grumbled. "You have your answer." He watched as Kitty flushed several shades of red.

"John, I'm going to be staying with my grandmother tonight." Kitty pushed herself off of the sink marched past Sherlock, all fury and claws.

**Author's Note: Ok! Sherlock and Kitty have hade their first domestic spat! I have to admit writing this made me want to smack them both, but I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

**P.S**

**Thank you so much for your reviews! Your feedback means a lot to me!**


	7. Chapter 7

Kitty had stormed out of the second floor flat and roused her Gran from her favorite T.V shows, to take her out to dinner. Kitty had to get out of 221B Baker Street or she would go mad. Her Gran had picked a place that was classy and played quiet classical music. They must have served Italian because the smell of garlic and tomatoes hung thickly in the air.

"What's the matter, Kitty?" Gran had been quietly watching her since they had sat and ordered their meals.

"Hmm?" Kitty hummed, woken from her thoughts.

"You've been as quiet as the grave, and we both know you're a chatter." Gran wasn't going to beat around the bush and Kitty knew it. She gave her Gran a sweet smile and shook her head.

"Just upset." Kitty gave a shrug. Gran pursed her lips and covered her granddaughter's hand with her own.

"Was it Sherlock?" She implored. "Because if he upset you again I swear I'll throw him into the street." Gran's sweet old voice was full of anger and concern. Kitty smiled lovingly at her gran and shook her head.

"No Gran, he didn't upset me… He kissed me." Kitty had never kept secrets from her Gran, aside from her injured arm, so she figured she would have to make up for it.

"Oh!" Gran's voice was startled. "Well that's a different matter entirely." She squeezed Kitty's hand. "Does John know?" Kitty was startled by her Gran's first question.

"What?" She laughed. "I don't know. Should he?"

"Well I thought those two were… you know." Gran delicately skipped around what she was trying to say and it made Kitty laugh, loudly.

"Oh God, no!" Kitty shook her head. "What made you think that?" Kitty was absolutely tickled by the thought of Sherlock and John being boyfriends. She had to admit that they would make a good couple but neither of them were even the slightest bit homosexual as far as she knew.

"Never mind that." Gran said, batting away the embarrassing conversation. "He kissed you? John brings women home from time to time but I could have sworn Sherlock was...playing for the other team." Kitty laughed but paused when she fully processed what her Gran had said.

"You mean he **_never_** brought a woman home?" Kitty asked surprised.

"No!... Not unless she was a client for a case, and those poor girls usually left crying." Gran was thinking hard, trying to be sure of her answer. Kitty quirked her brows and realized she wasn't surprised by that information. She had seen how cruel Sherlock could be when he thought he was being kind. Kitty took a sip of the sangria she had ordered and thought hard. She had refused to believe him, but now it was looking more and more like he had told the truth. "So are you two together then?" Gran asked after a long silence.

"Oh lord, no." Kitty shook her head. "He was just trying to get me to say I would stay." Kitty spoke the words without much gravity to them. Gran was silent.

"Oh dear." She breathed, sounding very touched. Kitty strained her ears to hear her Gran.

"What?" Kitty couldn't understand her response.

"Do you hear yourself?" Gran snapped. "That poor man kissed you to try and get you to stay with him, and you're upset!?" She was audibly upset. Her romantic side had come out full force.

"No, Gran!" Kitty held her hands up as if she were trying to calm a beast. "It wasn't like **_that!_**"

"Then what on earth was it like, Kitty Anne?" Gran had taken up her scolding voice.

"He was just toying with me!" Kitty tried to explain. "He was only being an ass!"

"I thought that **_American_** mother of yours had raised you better!" Gran scolded. "What did you think Sherlock would be like? A romantic gentleman? The poor man can barely tell someone 'hello' without scaring them away!" Gran had gone off on a tangent and all Kitty could do was sit and be admonished. "He's a genius in that head of his but he's a bloody idiot when it comes to people and feelings! Most people fancy that he doesn't even have feelings, but I can't believe that... Not of such a sweet boy." Gran's whirlwind of words came to a stop and she huffed for a few minutes. Kitty was surprised at how defensive her Gran had been of Sherlock.

"Sweet boy?" Kitty couldn't believe her ears; nothing about Sherlock Holmes was sweet.

"He's the reason your grandfather, God rest that sod's soul, was put to death! I can't tell you where I'd be without him!" Gran was well and truly upset with her. Kitty sat silently for a moment, processing her gran's words.

"Oh." was all Kitty could manage to say. She thought back to the moment in the lab when Sherlock had sent Molly running. He had thought he was being 'kind'. "I messed up then didn't I?" Kitty leaned back in her seat and set her glass on the table.

"That depends on what you told him." Gran had calmed considerably, but she hadn't fully relaxed. Kitty bit her lip and groaned.

"I told him I'd stay." Kitty whispered. She had said it, but he had coerced her to speak with his wicked kisses.

"Well then I hope you meant it." Gran took a quick sip of her wine and nodded to the waitress as she placed their entrees in front of them. "Because if you didn't and you leave him, he won't ever forgive you. I know **_that_** for a fact." Kitty didn't move to touch her meal. She felt ill. Sherlock couldn't have possibly been as serious as that. He'd kissed her and made her say it but she couldn't believe that he would even bat an eye if he never saw her again.

"Excuse me, Gran, I need to wash my hands." Kitty said as she stood. "Which way is the bathroom?"

"Follow the back wall to the left, dear." Gran directed between bites of her salad. Kitty nodded and followed her gran's directions to a door. She found the sign on it and read the braille on the bottom of it. With a sigh she pushed the door open and stepped into the women's bathroom. Her steps echoed off the walls, annoyingly. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.

"You're awful hard to get alone." A man's voice startled her. Kitty's heart skipped a beat and then leaped into overdrive.

"This is the woman's bathroom. You shouldn't be in here." She made her voice sound harsh. She'd taken self-defense classes when she was a teenager, and they had all told her never to sound afraid.

"Pretty lil blind girl, always surrounded by comp'ny," The man had a thick British accent that was hard for her to understand. "almost like a princess." He whispered the last bit and Kitty shuddered at the sound of his sneer.

"You had better leave, before you do something stupid." Kitty kept a firm control of her voice, and kept her face appearing calm.

"Sorry." The man chimed. "Boss'd kill me if I left wit'out you."

Kitty sucked in a deep breath in preparation for a scream but a cloth was shoved harshly over her mouth and nose before she could utter a sound. The sharp smell of chemicals filled her head and she felt suddenly dizzy. Her knees became jelly and she sank to the hard floor. She fought with every ounce of power she had to stay awake. She felt heavy, as though every part of her was made of lead.

"There now, little princess," the man chuckled darkly. "We'll just give you a lil 'bump' so you'll be nice and cooperative." Kitty felt a sharp pinch in her arm before the familiar, warm, flood of Morphine spread through her veins and she lost consciousness.

Kitty faded in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity before she could grab a hold of reality. It kept slipping through her fingers like water, or sand, and then she took hold of it. Her ears told her that she was in a hospital but her nose told her that she was somewhere damp, and moldy. Slowly she moved her hand to her right arm where she felt the familiar prick of an I.V

"I had them put you on a drip, couldn't keep you down otherwise." A doofy sounding voice drifted to her ears, but it sounded far away. "You must have been awfully addicted to build up such a tolerance." The man tisked at her.

"Jim?" She groaned. Why was Molly's boyfriend there?

"Oh, you're a quick one. No wonder Sherlock chose you for his new toy." Jim sounded like he was high himself. "So tell me, **_Pet_**, would you like to play a game?" Kitty was slipping from reality again but she clung on to her senses frantically.

"Game?" She was beginning to panic, but her body was too heavy. She could hardly blink without using all of her energy.

"I'm going to tell you what to say, and you'll say it like a good little puppet, or I'll blow you up. Understand?" The voice went from doofy to sinister. Kitty would have shivered if she hadn't been so drugged, but even in her addled state she understood that he meant what he said.

"Yes." She whispered. Hot tears filled her eyes and she let them fall.

"Alright then it's **_show time!"_**** Jim was insane.** Kitty heard a dial tone and then a phone rang next to her ear. She took deep breaths, concentrating on them to keep her from passing out again.

**Sherlock's POV**

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asked John absently. They sat in a small diner and John was tearing into his breakfast like a ravenous animal.

"Christ, we've hardly stopped for breakfast since this thing started… Has it occurred to you-"

"Probably." Sherlock interrupted. He was tapping his fingers on the table, waiting for another call to come. He was going mad waiting.

"No." John answered. "Has it occurred to you that the bomber is playing a game with you?"

Sherlock's eyes flicked up to John and then back down to the phone. It hadn't simply occurred to him, he knew it as fact. The bomber was playing a delightful game with him and it was killing him that the bomber was taking so long to reply. After Kitty had stormed out a day before Sherlock had poured himself even more into the case the bomber kindly set before him. She hadn't returned, and in the back of his mind he had turned their conversation over and over, trying to see what he had done wrong. It was infuriating, and he didn't want to think about it.

"The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoe,-"

"The stuffed bear." Sherlock nodded. He wanted John to finish his painfully slow thought rather than John forcing him to struggle along through it hand in hand.

"It's all meant for you." John finished, as he batted his food around his plate, positioning it before he would stab it with his fork and eat it.

"Yes I know." Sherlock struggled to hide his aggravation.

"Is it him then... Moriarty?" John could tell that Sherlock wasn't totally with him but he pushed his ideas at him anyway.

"Perhaps." Sherlock sighed. Then the pink phone went off and his eyes shot down to it. He picked it up and slid his thumb across the screen. Three pips rang out, and then a picture of a middle aged obese woman came onto the screen. "That could be anybody." Sherlock grumbled in frustration.

"Could be, yeah." John nodded as he used his tongue to pick something out of his teeth. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his flat mate. When had John become so infuriating? "Lucky for you I've been more than a little unemployed." John said as he began to stand.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, a look of interest on his face.

"Lucky for you, Mrs. Hudson and I watch far too much telly." John walked over to the counter and grabbed the remote to the T.V in the corner just as the phone began to ring. Sherlock grabbed it before it could ring a second time and answered.

"Hello?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but he was impatient.

"This one… is a bit…**_defective._**" Sherlock froze as Kitty's voice came over the phone. She sounded barely conscious. "**_Sorry." _** He could hear how livid she was at the words she was being forced to say. "She's blind." John caught sight of Sherlock's face and caught on to his alarm. Sherlock swallowed and kept himself as calm as possible. "This is… a funny one." He didn't like how disoriented she sounded, she must have been drugged, or else she wouldn't sound so weak. "I'll give you…- twelve hours." Kitty swallowed hard on the other end of the line. She was crying. Sherlock felt rage build up in his stomach, but focused on blinking, and not showing any emotion.

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock demanded. He waited through the long silence then he heard a cry of pain that almost broke his resolve.

"I like… to watch you… dance." Kitty sobbed out. Then the line went dead.

John had never seen Sherlock furious, and he wasn't even sure that he knew what he was seeing at that moment but something was very wrong. Sherlock's blue eyes burned holes into the linoleum table top.

"What is it?" John asked. Sherlock had been calm or excited when the other calls had been finished but this time was different, something was most definitely wrong.

"He has Kitty." Sherlock sounded as though he wasn't affected but he flicked his eyes up to John's and shook his head before slowly placing the phone onto the table. The action had been calm, and not outrageous, but John had seen the panic behind Sherlock's façade. He hadn't tossed the phone away as he would usually have done. He had placed it as gently as if it were made of glass.

"Jesus." John breathed.

**Kitty's POV**

Kitty took gasping breaths as she tried to stop the spasms that were wracking her body. They had shocked her with something, and it had set off a seizure. Her muscles contracted painfully against the weight of the morphine, and a pounding headache began behind her right eye. She knew the process. She'd had thousands of these seizures but every time the pain caught her off guard.

"You won't get another warning." Jim's voice spoke eerily. "Defy me again and I'll kill you." His voice sounded as if it had come from inside her head. Kitty grit her teeth together and waited for another spasm, but a wave of morphine hit her, someone had given her another large dose, and everything went dark again.

Ringing. She could hear ringing again. Kitty panicked inside the prison that her body had become and forced herself to wake up. She had to be able to speak. Jim's voice was in her head again. "Can you manage, pet? Or will we have to end the game?" Kitty could only groan her response. Her throat was dry and sore. Someone picked up on the other end.

**Sherlock's POV**

"Connection, connection, connection." Sherlock was pacing back and forth in front his 'clue wall' rubbing his hands together. The pillow and blanket John had laid out for Kitty still sat on the sofa undisturbed. "There must be a connection." Sherlock growled. He stopped and turned to his wall taking every bit of data in as quickly as he could force his mind to process it. He stopped and looked at Lestrade for a moment before beginning his thoughts aloud. "Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago, the bomber knew him, admitted that he knew him." His words were pouring out , always slower than his thoughts, but the looks Lestrade had been giving him were driving him up the wall. "The bomber's IPhone was in stationary from the Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall, the second from London, then the third from Pennsylvania judging by her accent. What's he doing, working his way around the world showing off?" Sherlock knew that his control was slipping and that he was beginning to show more frustration than the case should be causing if it were any other case. The pink phone rang and Sherlock snatched it up. He didn't say hello this time. He just waited to hear her voice.

"You're e-enjoying this… aren't you?" Kitty's voice was barely a whisper. She sounded hoarse and strained. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something irrational.

"Is that Kitty!?" Lestrade exclaimed. Sherlock hadn't told him for this very reason. He signaled for Lestrade to shut up and waited again.

He knew it wasn't Kitty speaking so he had to control himself. She wasn't the one accusing him. "Joining the… dogs? Sherlock couldn't say anything. He couldn't answer. "Three hours." She continued, and then a choked sob came over the line. "**_Boom…boom._**" Then the line went dead. Sherlock shoved the phone into his pocket and folded his hands in front of his mouth. He had to make her wait a little longer. He had to use this time he had to get ahead.

**Kitty's POV**

"Good job, Pet. You wowed him into silence!" Jim sounded delighted. Kitty shook her head, wishing she could shake that lunatic out of it. "No?" He sang. "He was absolutely devastated!" Jim laughed maniacally. "I just can't wait for the finally!" Kitty slipped back under the influence of the morphine and found that she had been craving the silence. A deep fear settled in her mind, that in her current state she could not recognize.

She was torn out of her heavy silence by a jolt of electricity smashing its way through her body.

"Wakie wakie!" Jim's voice stabbed at her ears. Her body was so exhausted and dehydrated that it didn't even force a seizure out of her. She was simply too weak.

"Please." She begged. "Just stop this."

"Stop this? But we've just gotten to the fun part!" Jim's voice sounded like nails on a chalk board. Then there came the ringing. Kitty wanted to just go back under, she wanted to go back to the silence. Then another jolt hit her and she let out a scream.

"Help me!" She sobbed, when she heard Sherlock's voice on the other end. She wanted him to save her; she wanted him to get her out of that miserable place.

"Tell us where you are… Tell us the address" His voice was calm, and reassuring. Kitty swore to herself that she would kiss him when she saw him.

"Ah, ah, ah~" Jim hummed in her head. "Don't make any mistakes, Pet, follow the script." Kitty swallowed hard.

"He..was so… his voice-" Kitty felt a painful lump rise in her throat.

"No, no, no!" Sherlock's voice became panicked. Kitty could hear Jim snickering. "Tell me nothing about him!"

"He sounded… so soft."

**Sherlock's POV**

She had just been speaking. Kitty had made a mistake at the very last moment, and now she was dead. Sherlock's hand slowly dropped to the desk and released the phone. An ominous dial tone stretched through the silence.

"Hello?" He knew she wouldn't answer.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade could hear the panic in Sherlock's voice. It had frankly scared the shit out of him.

"What's happened?" John watched as Sherlock's face fell blank. Like he had just been an automaton the entire time and he'd just shut down. Then there was an almost uncatchable flash of pain on Sherlock's face. John took a deep breath and placed his hand on his friend's Should. Sherlock didn't say anything.

**Author's Note: Ok everybody take a deep breath! I promise you it isn't over! I couldn't possibly end my favorite fanfic so soon so don't worry! Kitty will beback next chapter!**

**To Guest: I'm really glad you think my story is so good! I had a very hard time writing their relationship so I'm glad that you thought it worked! I plan to keep this fic going for as long as I possibly can so I hope I won't disapoint!**

**To Nic: I had hoped the episodes would fit in nicely. I know I swip swapped some scenes and moved lines around but I try to look at Kitty as a variable put into a universe. As soon as you throw in a foreign variable to any universe theoretically it causes a butterfly effect! So I hope the liberties I took with the story line are permissable!**

**Thanks to everyone who has read my stuff!**


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Hudson had been inconsolable. She'd cried for hours without pause. She'd only stopped to call her daughter in law and tell her that her daughter was dead, and then resumed her tears full force. Sherlock had just become quiet. He went through the next case as he normally would, almost unfazed, but there was something, quieter about him. When John and Sherlock had gotten home the next night Sherlock had sat himself in front of the telly and grumbled quietly about 'the imbeciles on Jeopardy'. John had silently ignored the way Sherlock had just brushed Kitty's death off like it was an inconvenience. John had been sure that he had seen pain on Sherlock's face when he realized he had failed, but hell if Sherlock would behave like a human being.

"You gave the memory stick to your brother then?" John asked.

"What? Oh yes. He was over the moon, threatened me with a Knighthood, again." Sherlock's conversational tone made John want to punch him. The girl he'd opened up to had died because of him and he barely even blinked.

"Just so I know, do you even care that Kitty died?" John's angry words jumped out of him. He didn't feel sorry either when Sherlock turned his head slightly as though he'd been slapped.

"Did my caring help save her?" Sherlock plied with an edge of frustration.

"No." John spat back angrily.

"Then I won't continue to make that mistake." Sherlock met John's anger with his own frustration. John found himself horribly disappointed. Watching Sherlock banter with Kitty had made him think that perhaps Sherlock wasn't really the soulless prick he'd thought him to be.

"And you find that easy do you?" John stood and moved to get his coat. He was to angry with Sherlock to sit around and listen to him berate the telly.

"Yes! Does that surprise you?" Sherlock snapped. John was surprised at the venom in his voice.

"No… No Sherlock it doesn't!" John yelled. He could usually handle Sherlock's odd behavior and way of looking at things but not in this instance.

"I've disappointed you." Sherlock breathed, as he took in John's furious state.

"That- that is a good deduction, Sherlock." John' tone was biting.

"Don't make people into heroes, John. They don't exist, and even if they did I wouldn't be one of them." Sherlock spoke the harsh words softly. John bit back another remark and stormed out of the flat. He'd had enough.

Sherlock waited until he had heard John leave to pull his laptop into his lap and type a quick post to his website. He would meet Moriarty face to face, at the pool, at midnight.

**Kitty's POV**

She didn't know how long she had drifted. Time just passed her by, like a stream around a rock. She couldn't feel anything. She couldn't hear. There was only the silence. She had wondered if she was dead. If she was, it wasn't so bad. She enjoyed the silence, and the calm it brought to her, but that had been what turned her into an addict in the first place. She wasn't dead, just very heavily drugged. Slowly she began to feel again. Her fingers began to tingle, and then every inch of her flesh began to itch. She was coming down off the Morphine, and her mind was beginning to clear. She fought the urge to scratch herself bloody and yanked the I.V out of her arm. It left a burning pain but for once she was glad of the pain. Her body began to ache, as though she had been made of stone and she had been shattered.

"Get up." Jim's voice snapped at her. The hospital bed where she had been laying was roughly shaken and she yelped. She didn't question him. Kitty forced her legs weakly to the edge of the bed. She was aware enough to realize that she wasn't wearing anything but her bra and underwear. "Good, Pet. Now follow like a good girl." Jim was having a delirious amount of fun. Something was put around her neck and fastened there. Kitty touched it and realized with horror that it was a shock collar. Footsteps echoed as someone walked away from her and she struggled to follow. She didn't know where she was or where she was going. Her feet were met with cold cement floor. She stumbled along behind the footsteps, every now and again Jim would laugh at her when she fell, or ran into a wall. She wanted to cry, but her tears were all used up. "Come on, Pet, I don't have all day." She had finally gotten to him. He was in front of her, waiting. She stopped, just out of his reach and listened warily. He wasn't in her head anymore, he was physically there. "That's it; now let's go see your master." Kitty felt like the blood had been drained from her body. Jim clasped a leash to her neck and pulled her through a doorway with a harsh tug that sent her stumbling.

"I gave you my number!" He called, apparently returning to a conversation he had paused in order to torment Kitty. "I thought you might call!" He sounded like an idiot, and Kitty burned with shame at the fact that she had been captured by him. He gave the leash a jerk as he walked forward and Kitty followed, she didn't have the strength to resist. "Is that a British Army Browning L9-A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" He was toying with someone else as he dragged Kitty along behind him. She could hear lapping water, and smell chlorine. She was at a pool.

"Both." Sherlock's voice bounced off the walls and hit Kitty like a punch in the stomach. He was there, seeing her like that.

"Jim Moriarty… Hi!" Kitty wanted to kill him. "Jim?" He continued. "Jim from the hospital?" He began to walk again and yanked on Kitty, just for fun. "Oh, I really made such a fleeting impression? Well I suppose that was rather the point… Pet remembered me though." Jim grabbed Kitty's chin as if to show her off. "Don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle... I don't like getting my hands dirty." He let go his tight hold of Kitty's chin and walked a bit farther. He was playing a cruel mental game. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world… I'm a specialist, you see" His sneer was unmistakable. "Like you!"

"Dear, Jim." Sherlock breathed. "Please will you fix it for me? Get rid of my lover's nasty sister. Dear Jim, will you fix it for me to disappear to South America." Jim stalked forward even closer as Sherlock spoke.

"Just so!" He mimicked Sherlock's voice as if to tease him.

"Consulting criminal." Sherlock breathed. He sounded both disgusted and impressed. "Brilliant."

"Isn't it?" Jim was gloating. "No one ever gets to me." He finished before yanking on Kitty yet again, forcing her to get closer to him. Kitty felt her skin crawl, but she didn't fight. She wouldn't put anyone else in danger for the sake of her pride. "And no one ever will." Kitty heard a gun cock and took a shaky breath. She couldn't tell where it had come from.

"I did." Sherlock countered.

"You've come the closets." Moriarty threw Sherlock a bone, like he was a poor loser. "Now you're in my way!"

"Thank you." Sherlock snapped.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment." Moriarty countered.

"Yes you did."

"Yeah, **_ok, I did._****" **Moriarty shrugged. "But the flirting's over Sherlock. **_Daddy's had enough now!"_**He was singing his words. Kitty was pulled along another few steps. She hated this game. "You've seen what I can do." Moriarty grabbed Kitty's arm roughly and pulled her forward. She was to be made an example of. She wrapped her arms around herself and fought back the urge to cry. She would **not** cry. "I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even 30 million quid, just to get you to come out and play… So take** this** as a friendly warning, my dear." Kitty felt his grip tighten as he shook her. "**Back off." ** A long silence stretched out and Kitty focused on breathing. Her face was blank of expression. She must have looked like a human doll. "Although I have enjoyed this… This little **_game_** of ours!" Kitty felt her skin heat with anger. She was a game to this maniac. "Playing **_Jim from I.T._**, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." Sherlock sounded calm but his voice was grim.

"That's what people DO!" Moriarty screamed. Kitty yelped at the noise and tried to struggle away from him. Moriarty sighed and simply held on to her tighter. "See what you've done? Soon as you show up she thinks she can misbehave." Moriarty sounded like he was talking about an ill-mannered dog. He suddenly released her and a shock shot through Kitty's body, dropping her to her knees on the hard floor. She shook terribly but she didn't make a sound. Kitty bit her cheek so hard she could taste blood.

"I **_will _** stop you." Sherlock stated with an edge of anger in his voice, which Kitty hadn't heard before.

"No you won't." Jim taunted.

"You alright?" Sherlock asked calmly.

"You can talk, Pet." Jim was amused by her silence. "Go ahead." Kitty didn't speak. She just nodded.

"Take it." Sherlock demanded. Jim dropped Kitty's leash and left her on the floor. His attention span was about as long as a Nat's.

"Hmm?" He thrummed, sounding like a child who'd just had a sweetie dangled in front of him. "Oh~ **that…** the missile plans." He hissed out his words. "**Boring!**" He sang, and Kitty heard something plop into the water. "I could have got them anywhere." Someone next to Kitty rushed forward and grabbed Moriarty. She hadn't even known anyone else was there, she was so disoriented.

"Kitty, Sherlock Run!" John shouted. Moriarty laughed and neither Kitty nor Sherlock moved. Kitty was stunned by John's bravery.

"Good!" Moriarty gasped. "Very good!

"Your sniper, pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up!" John snapped. Kitty wanted to hug him. He was willing to be blown up to save someone else.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around, but then people do get so sentimental about their **_Pets." _**Kitty could hear John struggling to keep hold of Moriarty. "They're so touching and loyal, then **oops!" **Kitty felt little pricks of heat on her forehead and felt her stomach tighten.

"You've rather shown your hand there Dr. Watson." Moriarty was tickled. "Gotcha!" He sang. Kitty heard John release Moriarty and take a step away. "Westwood." He was complaining about his clothes, Kitty realized in disbelief. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh let me guess I get killed." Sherlock sounded bored. Of all the feelings he could be feeling right then, he was bored! Kitty glared at the floor. Her knees were beginning to sting where the cement dug into her flesh.

"Kill you? No! Don't be obvious, I mean I'm going to kill you anyway someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no… if you don't stop prying. I will burn you… I will burn the **_heart_** out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock growled. Kitty pinched her eyes shut. She didn't expect to pity Sherlock in that moment. She chalked it up to being irrational from withdraw.

"We both know that's not quite true." Kitty felt another shock go through her and a traitorous scream of pain tore itself from her. She felt her head become light and knew she would pass out if she didn't fight it. "Well, I'd better be off. It was so nice to have a proper chat." His tone didn't even acknowledge the fact that he had just tortured another human being.

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?" Sherlock sounded deadly calm. Kitty got a chill from how serious he sounded. He would kill him.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face,… because I'd be surprised, Sherlock, I really would, and just a teensy bit… **_disappointed…_** And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Kitty shook as she listened to the pregnant silence before Moriarty spoke again. "Chow." Moriarty turned around and moved towards Kitty. He paused and used his shoe to lift her chin and force her face upwards. "And do keep up with her training, Sherlock; she was a **bitch** to **break."** Moriarty took his shoe off her face and continued walking away.

"Catch… you… later." Sherlock breathed.

"No you won't!" A door slammed and suddenly the still was broken. John scrambled to remove something from himself and pushed it across the floor away from them. It sounded like something heavy.

"Jesus." John let out a shaky breath. "Are you alright Kitty?" He crouched in front of her and checked her pulse on her neck. Kitty didn't move or respond. Her head was swimming.

"That… thing that you did… that you offered to do… that was umm…. Good." Sherlock was struggling with a simple 'thank you'. John looked at him and nodded.

"Yes, yes, just give her your jacket already, she's hypothermic." John snapped. Kitty was shaking like a leaf and her skin was cold to the touch. Sherlock yanked off his jacket and draped it over Kitty, trying to cover as much of her as possible with it.

"I'm so sorry, Kitty." He breathed. She was filthy. Her hair hung in greasy strands from her head and she had Taser burns all over her body. I.V Bruises covered her right arm and her bandages hadn't been changed in days. Kitty reached out her injured arm and put her hand on Sherlock's chest. Now that Moriarty was gone she had to be sure that he was real. Sherlock flinched at her touch and felt irrationally guilty. Kitty felt him jerk but didn't remove her hand. He was warm, and she felt a feeling of relaxation wash over her. He'd saved her.

"Don't you **ever** take so long to find me again." Her throat was tight, and dry. It hurt her to speak but she was going to say it. Sherlock frowned at her and felt her little hand shaking against his chest. Even after everything she hadn't doubted he would find her.

"I promise." Sherlock nodded. She hadn't told him to get away, or screamed at him .She'd just scolded him, which was better than he had hoped for. He watched as her eyes began to close and she slumped against him.

"She's going into shock!" John exclaimed. Sherlock yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialed emergency.

**Sherlock's POV**

They had gotten her to the hospital just in time. It took hours for her to stabilize. The sight of Kitty's body covered in over thirty heated blankets and still shivering frightened him. If she died he would have to mentally deal with the loss all over again and he simply wasn't going to allow that to happen. It had surprised him how upset he had been the first time he had thought she was dead. What had surprised him more was John's response.

_"__You don't deserve her." He had snapped when Sherlock made to leave the hospital. There was nothing he could do. He hadn't seen any point in staying _

_"__What?" Sherlock, looked at the doctor confused. _

_"__If you leave now, and force her to wake up, to an empty hospital room you'll only be proving that you really are heartless!" John sounded delirious. When he saw the look of confusion on Sherlock's face he shook his head and put a hand to his forehead. _

_"__What on earth are you talking about?" Sherlock asked trying to sound aloof. _

_"__Don't you dare act like that!" John snapped in frustration. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Sherlock had just knit his brows together and sighed. John was always the sentimental one._

_"__I doubt I'm the first person she wants to wake up to." Sherlock had looked away from the doctor and pursed his lips. _

_"__You've got to be kidding me." John growled. "Are you really that stupid?" Sherlock took offense to John's words. "She's just gone through a trauma because of you! Don't you feel the least bit sorry?!" _

_Sherlock narrowed his eyes into a glare._

_"__Of course I do." He'd snapped._

_"__Then get your bloody ass in that room and treat her like a princess! She doesn't deserve one ounce less!" John was flustered and angry. Sherlock took in John's words and realized something._

_"__You think I love her." Sherlock had stated. He didn't of course. Love was just a chemical illusion. He was fond of her at the most, although he supposed that was more than he could say of most people. John had looked at Sherlock with a look of pity. _

_"__I saw you, Sherlock… When she was dragged into that room by Moriarty, you were __**relieved, and then you were furious.**_" _John paused for a while. "I don't believe that you're capable of love Sherlock, at least not the way everybody else is... but you __**care **__about her." Sherlock had stared at John for a long time, before sighing and returning to Kitty's room._

Now he sat in the corner, a dictionary of scientific theories in his hands. Every now and again he would look up and check her monitors. He heard a pair of furious heels march into the room and flicked his eyes to the middle aged blonde woman who had entered. She had the same smattering of freckles across her face as Kitty, but she wore makeup to conceal them. He set his book down and considered the woman.

"Who are you?" She snapped, as she rushed to her daughter's bedside. Two men in black suites entered the room after her, carrying a bright pink travel case and a purse.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes." He stated absently as he deduced the woman. She was somewhere in her late forties to early fifties and, everything about her was perfectly manicured. Her hair was freshly dyed, her nails perfectly polished a bright shade of pink, and her makeup hadn't suffered any from her stress. She had a tissue clutched in her hand that was smeared with eyeliner where she had been wiping away tears and fixing makeup.

"Jesus." The woman breathed as she looked down at her daughter. Sherlock could see how distressed she was. She nervously twisted her wedding ring. She was a widow, and had been true to her husband even after death. The callus around the ring on her finger was proof of that. Sherlock doubted if she had removed it since it had been put there.

"She's stabilized." Sherlock relayed. The woman's eyes shot back to him with a glare, all remnants of motherly concern gone.

"You're the bastard who got my baby kidnapped!" She accused. Sherlock could see where Kitty had gotten her mouth.

"That is correct." He didn't show any shame. He knew that he was to blame for what had happened to Kitty. "But I'm also the bastard who found her." He finished before picking up his book once more and beginning to read.

"Mom wasn't kidding." The woman growled, referring to Mrs. Hudson. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't throw you out." She was obviously used to talking down to people. That and her formal dress led Sherlock to believe that she was a C.E.O.

"I'm afraid I can't come up with one." He breathed with a note of frustration. He wasn't even entirely sure of why he was there. "I just want to see her wake up." Sherlock admitted. IT was the truth. He wanted to see her wake up and smile that cheeky smile she would so often use. He felt a familiar twist in his stomach at the thought. When the woman remained silent Sherlock looked up from his book at her. She was sizing him up.

"If she wakes up and want's you gone, they'll toss you out." She said pointing to her hired guards. Sherlock nodded in understanding.

"Sounds reasonable enough." Sherlock agreed. Without any further acknowledgement of Sherlock she sat in the chair her guard provided and took Kitty's hand into her own. They sat in a tense silence for several moments before she spoke again.

"What did she say…when you found her?" The woman's voice wavered. Sherlock could see how worried she was for her daughter.

"She told me to never take so long again." Sherlock couldn't help but smile a little. "She was still, scolding me even after everything that had happened." Kitty's mother looked up at him, soggy eyed.

"She's gotten so much stronger." She breathed in relief. "The last time… She was never the same after that." Sherlock's interest was piqued.

"The blindness you mean?" He asked. The woman looked at him confused.

"How did you know?" She asked startled.

"Kitty told me." He wasn't really lying. Kitty's mother examined him anew, as if he'd changed right before her eyes.

"That's surprising." She stated, not bothering to hide her astonishment. "Leave it to a handsome brit to weasel his way into her heart." Sherlock moved to protest but a quiet groan from Kitty silenced him.

Kitty's eyes snapped open and her heart rate went through the roof, she was panicking." Sherlock dropped his book and was next to her in a moment, holding her other hand.

"It's alright, Sniffer Dog." He soothed. "I've got you." He was surprised at how quickly she calmed.

"Mommy's here baby." Her mother sobbed, petting her hair. Kitty looked surprised to hear her mother's voice and swallowed hard.

"Mom?" She still sounded rough. Sherlock reached over and raised her fluid drip count. The bloody doctors were going to kill her with their caution.

"Yes, baby?" Her mother breathed, fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry." She pulled her hand out of her mother's and reached up to touch her face. "Please don't cry." Kitty found a tear and wiped it away. Her mother nodded and used her crumpled tissue to wipe her face.

"I'm sorry, how are you feeling?" She tried her very best to sound happy.

"Like crap." Kitty's blunt response made Sherlock chuckle to himself. "And you," She turned her attention to Sherlock. "are going to have a lot of making up to do for this." She sounded stern but her hand squeezed his softly. He smiled at her openly.

"That sounds reasonable." He'd missed her, as much as he didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Good." She gave him a sweet smile.

"Boys get him a chair." Kitty's mother ordered, waving her hand at Sherlock. Apparently she had decided to let him stay.

**Author's note: Ok so Sherlock has gotten Kitty back and is maybe starting to consider his feelings for her, but what will Kitty do when her Mother tries to take her back home? Will she leave him?**

**I'm not gonna tell ;D**


	9. Chapter 9

**To Black Rose Kalli: I'm so excited that you like my story! I'm having a terrible amount of fun writing the banter between Sherlock and Kitty so I'm seriously stoked to hear that you enjoy it too! As for Kitty not being a Marry Sue I'm glad she isn't. Kitty suffers from a lot of the same problems as I do so she is very near and dear to my heart as a charachter!**

**To Guest: I know! She's just to perfect for Sherlock to take her ass back to America!**

**To LucyRider17 : Thanks so much for reading my story and I hope you continue to enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Kitty Hudson and her Mother**

For the first few hours after Kitty first woke up she would waken for a few minutes and fade back into fitful sleep again. Every time she regained consciousness she would think she was back with Moriarty and panic, until Sherlock took her hand and spoke to her. He never said anything of importance; he would just talk, and hold her hand. If she was conscious for a long enough stretch they would talk about nothing in particular until she fell back into sleep. Every time she awoke and her heart rate monitor would begin to scream Sherlock would be reminded of his guilt as well as his anger. Moriarty had taken her from him, and scarred her in ways that would not be easily healed. Sherlock was morbidly aware of the fact that when she was released she would most likely return to America and never come back. That information upset him greatly. In a very short period of time he had grown used to Kitty's presence, and in the short time Moriarty had held her captive, as well as the even shorter time he had thought she was dead, he had come toe to toe with his own demons. Her presence seemed to abate them, but her absence spurred them into malicious torment. Sherlock turned the data over in his mind, trying to untangle the equation that made Kitty so tolerable. Kitty herself was a variable. Her entire life story had been there for him to read from the first moment he had clapped eyes on her, but the information did not define her as it did most people. Sherlock knew that someone who suffered such a childhood trauma, which led to such severe psycho somatic symptoms, was statistically expected to commit suicide during their teen years, or at the very least become a social drop out. Kitty was neither of those things. She had survived the most difficult years of her life, with only a minor addiction to Morphine , and gone on to successfully finish college. She had proven to be an outlier.

Sherlock set down his book and looked over to where Kitty lay sleeping. If the statistics had been against her the first time she had been abducted then they would triple after the second. He had gotten her back, but the odds told him that he would not be able to keep her. His logic told him that he should leave, and dust Katarina Hudson out of his memory before he was hurt by her absence, but every time he set his book aside, prepared to leave, he would look at her and be unable to abandon her. It was frustrating for him. Actually it was maddening. During one such moment Kitty awoke, and instead of walking to the door Sherlock had taken her hand.

"Sherlock?" She croaked out his name and gripped his hand tightly.

"Yes, Sniffer Dog?" He could not keep his exhaustion from roughening his voice.

"Thank you… for staying." She sounded apologetic, as though, due to some fault of her own she had come to be in her current state. Sherlock couldn't understand why she was thanking him. He should have been thanking her for not sending him away with hateful words the instant she'd woken. Sherlock did not respond right away. He chose his words carefully. John's instructions to treat her like a princess had not fallen on deaf ears.

"I'll be here as long as you need me." He had relinquished himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to leave her willingly.

"Sherlock?" She repeated, begging his attention once more.

"Yes?" He stroked the back of her pale hand with his thumb.

"I don't hate you." She whispered the words as though she was afraid to say them. "I didn't mean it when I said it." She was talking about their argument. Sherlock looked at her with a look of astonishment. She was apologizing to him for something so trivial.

"You're ridiculous." He'd meant to sound stern but it somehow came out softer. Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly and her blind eyes darted back and forth as she thought.

"Why?" Her rough voice rose in confusion.

"You're apologizing, to me, for saying something in anger almost three days ago." Sherlock sat forward and leaned against the side of her bed. "When you've just been abducted and tortured by the most dangerous man I have ever had the misfortune to cross." He could have laughed if he hadn't felt so guilty. Kitty frowned and slowly struggled to readjust herself in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

"So?" She said it as though the whole ordeal had been nothing. "What is important is important no matter what." She settled for a position that had her sitting up. "As soon as I lose that I really will be broken." The words came forth as though it was just a fact of life.

Sherlock watched as she winced from the pain of her injuries. She'd been repeatedly tortured with electrocution, kept in a near overdosed state, and strategically dehydrated for over a day and a half, yet she felt that it was most important to apologize to him.

"You're illogical." Sherlock felt all at once frustrated. She should have been angry and just pushed him away. Why couldn't she just be like everyone else and hate him?

"And you're an asshole." She wasn't angry; she may as well have been stating the color of his eyes. Sherlock stayed silent and watched her as she fell asleep again. With a groan of frustration he ran a hand through his mop of curls. She wasn't going to make it any easier for him to leave her.

Kitty's mother returned from checking into her hotel room and sat down in her chair.

"How is she?" She asked reluctantly.

"She's been in and out… She still wakes with a start." Sherlock couldn't relay much else. All the doctors could do at this point is make her comfortable and wait while she improved.

"She used to do that years ago… Who knows how long it will be before she sleeps well again." Sherlock frowned at the woman and shook his head.

"I doubt she's ever slept well." Sherlock didn't bother being gentle with the woman's feelings. Kitty had the hollows of a chronic insomniac under her eyes. To his surprise Kitty's mother didn't argue.

"She'll get better when she goes home." Kitty's mother sounded as though she was reassuring herself.

**Kitty's POV**

Kitty hated hospitals, in fact, simply saying that she hated them didn't cover it. She was terrified of them. The doctors had given her something to make her sleep and she couldn't stay conscious long enough to get out. She didn't want to be there. She didn't like having people she didn't know pumping her full of drugs she didn't know the name of. So she waited until she awoke and did not smell her mother's perfume.

"Sherlock?" She croaked, searching for his hand and sitting up. Her muscles screamed at her to stay still but she wouldn't. Sherlock's large hand took hers.

"It's alright. You're safe." He tried to soothe her abut she wouldn't have it,

"Sherlock, please, get me out of here." She clasped his hand tightly in both of her own and pointed her frightened eyes at him. "Please." Her stomach twisted. If he told her no she would be stuck there, and he had every reason to tell her no. She would beg him if It came down to it. Sherlock was silent for a moment before he responded.

"You only have three minutes to get dressed." He stated before standing and reclaiming his hand so that he could shut the door. "Your mother and her goons have gone for food, but they will be back any minute. Sherlock began shutting down the Machines that were connected to Kitty and removing the many cables and tubes that were attached to her. Kitty wasn't going to question him. His voice was steady, and commanding, as though he were in charge of some kind of black ops mission. Between the two of them Kitty was dressed and ready in under two minutes. Her mother had brought clothes for when Kitty would be released, but they were being put into action a bit earlier than her mother had planned.

Kitty pushed off of the bed and stood shakily. Her muscles ached and she felt exhausted just from standing. The doctors would never let her just walk out of there. Sherlock wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her stand. Kitty flushed at his touch, it got a reaction out of her even when she was exhausted.

"The only way this will work is if you don't hide your blindness." Sherlock told her. Kitty felt him put a pair of glasses on her face.

"Glasses?" She blurted out, confused.

"Sunglasses." He corrected. "Alright, Sniffer Dog, let's make a show of it." Kitty nodded and let him tow her along out the door, she kept her hands out in front of her and made a spectacle of herself, pointing her eyes upwards. She could feel Sherlock fighting back a chuckle. The walk to the elevator was excruciatingly long. The nurses and alarms and carts all made their own cacophonous noise that thickened the ache in her head. Every inch of her body felt like it was going to explode with nerves. Kitty felt Sherlock's stride shorten, and knew they had almost reached the elevator. Her tension rose as she felt him lean away from her to press the button that called the elevator.

"The lift will be up in a moment." Sherlock held Kitty against his side, supporting her, but Kitty still felt over exerted. Finally a cheery 'ding' announced the arrival of the elevator and Sherlock ushered her in.

"Why did I have to be obviously blind?" Kitty asked, wondering as to his reasoning behind it.

"People are taught not to stare at the abnormal, therefore they don't look long enough to notice anything else out of the ordinary." He explained, shifting her weight so that he could support her better. The smell of Old Spice tickled her nose.

"Thank you, Sherlock." Kitty breathed after a moment of awkward silence.

"As you've said… I have a lot of making up to do." Sherlock gave her a gentle squeeze as the doors opened, and led her into the Hospital lobby.

A few short moments later the two were on the streets of London, their breath coming out as puffs of mist. Sherlock hailed a taxi and helped Kitty into it. She slumped into the seat and groaned. The pounding in her head was deafening.

"Last chance to turn back." Sherlock thrummed, and waited for her answer.

Kitty pinched her eyes shut and shook her head.

"Take me home, Sherlock." She hadn't intentionally called Baker St. home, but once she had, that is what it was in her mind. She was more comfortable there than in her own house in the states.

"Driver, take us to 221B Baker St." Sherlock's deep voice was the only sound that didn't cause Kitty's head pain. Kitty felt about for Sherlock and found him only about a foot away in the seat. She unabashedly slid over and leaned her aching head against his chest.

"What are y-" Sherlock began but Kitty cut him off.

"Shut up." She said quietly. She was in too much pain to care if Sherlock minded or not. "You make my head feel better." It was the only explanation she was going to give him. His warmth and the steady beating of his heart made the pain in her head lessen the slightest bit. Sherlock didn't respond. He just stayed perfectly still and Kitty was glad of it.

When the Taxi stopped in front of 221B Sherlock quickly paid and exited the Taxi. Kitty figured he'd had enough of the forced cuddling session and was glad to be away from her. She slowly and painfully scooted across the seat and got out Sherlock's side. To her surprise he was waiting by the taxi door and once again supported her with an arm around her waist.

Sherlock led her quickly inside and paused in the foyer to scoop her up, pulling a surprised yelp from Kitty, and carry her up the stairs.

"What in the hell are you doing!?" Kitty clung to Sherlock's neck in fear of being dropped.

"Saving time.": Sherlock reached the top of the stairs and took long strides into the flat before setting her on the sofa.

"A little warning would have been nice!" Kitty grumbled. She was covered in a soft blush and had her hand over her heart. Sherlock felt the urge to kiss her into a stupor but thought better of it. He would have to learn to block out such urges. They were annoyingly inconvenient.

"You would have protested." He said with a shrug. Kitty rolled her eyes at him and sat up a bit straighter,

"Still, warn me next time." Kitty ran a hand through her hair and grimaced. She was filthy. "Where's your bathroom?" Kitty asked, slowly standing up.

"Down the hallway past the kitchen, first door on your left." Sherlock watched as she wobbled towards the kitchen and sighed. "Do you need help getting there?" He was amused by her immediate and sudden denial.

"No." She snapped, but her balance wavered and she fell against the kitchen table, making beakers and other tools clatter. Sherlock moved to help her but she let out a growl of fury. "God damn it!" She yelled. "I'm fucking sick of being helpless!" Her fist came down hard on the table and made the beakers shake. Sherlock was both impressed and startled by her sudden anger. "I'm sick of being the weak one!" Her voice was full of self-loathing. She was exhausted, in pain, and at the end of her rope.

"Kitty-" Sherlock's voice was cautious but Kitty's eyes pinned him to the spot. She was pointing every ounce of fury she had at him and it was surprisingly unnerving. She was a goddess standing there all fury and rage.

"No! I don't want to hear it!" She snapped, "I'm not going to listen to anymore shit from people who think they know how to fix me!" She was enraged. Her blood beat loudly in her ears and she was shaking with pent up anger. "I'm fucking broken!... Useless!" She hit the table again. She wanted to break things and make a scene, she was done taking everything in stride. She was done pretending to be ok. "I should just be thrown away!" Her voice was cracking from the strain of screaming. She stood there for several minutes, shaking and sucking in angry breaths. Sherlock watched as her breaths evened out and her fist slowly unclenched itself. Kitty had whipped into a fury and fallen back out of it just as suddenly.

"Are you done your tantrum now?" He asked, a note of amusement mingled in with genuine curiosity. Kitty turned red and nodded, she felt suddenly very ashamed of herself. Sherlock crossed the room to her and removed her fist from his table before she could break anything. "I don't have any idea how to fix you." He stated bluntly. "And I won't pretend that I do." Sherlock took one of her shoulders in each hand and turned her towards the bathroom. "But, like most antiquities, you're made more beautiful for having survived the test of time at all. To fix any damage would be a crime." Sherlock's voice didn't sound sweet at all, he could have been reading out of the dictionary, but he'd said one of the kindest things Kitty had ever heard. She was struck dumb by it. He led her forward until he steered her to her left after three paces and released her shoulders. He stepped past her and turned on the water for the bath. "Don't get used to this." He mumbled in an offhand sort of way. "I'm nobody's butler." Kitty just stood there open mouthed.

"Sherlock?" The tone in Kitty's voice made him look.

"Yes?" He couldn't put a name to the emotion he had just herd. Kitty reached out her hand, looking for him. Impatient for whatever she was going to say, he took her hand and put it on his arm, expecting her to speak once she'd found him. What she did next was not what he had been expecting. Her hand brushed up his arm and found his jaw before pulling him towards her and pressing a very passionate kiss to his lips. His heart rate shot through the roof and his arms clamped her against him instinctively. Sherlock would never understand women. After a moment her little hand pushed his chin away. She let out a deep breath.

"That's for saving me," She sounded determined to not give up how shaken she was by the kiss. "and saying nice things, even if you don't mean too." Sherlock let out a deep rumbly chuckle and shook his head.

"You're using positive reinforcement." He said in disbelief.

"Is it working?" Kitty gave his jaw a peck and smiled at him shyly. Her stomach felt like she'd drunk a bottle of bubble solution. He was holding her firmly against him and she could feel the heat of his skin through his button down shirt.

"That depends." Sherlock's deep voice had a sly edge to it.

"On what?" Kitty asked, sounding fairly cynical.

"Whether or not you keep at it." Sherlock pressed his lips against hers once more, for a short moment. "Now hurry up and bathe." He said chidingly. "You look awful." Kitty's mouth fell open in offense and she slapped Sherlock's chest.

"You dick head!" She yelped.

"I can't be good all the time." Sherlock stated as he let her go and stepped out of the bathroom. Kitty grumbled at the sudden chill that hit her skin where he had been. The door shut with a thud and Kitty let out a sigh as she felt the steam from the bath water begin to warm her again. She leaned over the tub and dipped her hand into the water. With a hiss she yanked it back out again.

"He's trying to cook me!" She mumbled as she found the faucet and turned the heat down. After several minutes she turned the water off and began the grueling process of removing her clothing. She'd had to stop with her shirt mid-way off because the pain in her arms was too much. She stayed that way for a few minutes before sucking in a deep breath and yanking the shirt off like a Band-Aid. She immediately regretted that decision. Radiating pain went from her finger tips, up her arms, and the whole way down to the base of her spine. Kitty stayed very still, biting her lip as she breathed. Everything after that was easy in comparison to her shirt, and it only took her a few minutes before she sank into the hot water. It lapped at her skin and made her feel like she was melting. A long groan of pleasure escaped her lips. She could practically feel the grime coming off of her skin.

**Authors** **Note: Okay, so Kitty is back on baker street (WHERE SHE BELONGS!) but I think we all know that her mother is going to be raising some hell over her daughters 'Early Departure' from the hospital! Won't that be fun!?**


	10. Chapter 10

Kitty had only just finished washing her hair when she heard angry voices coming up the stairs to the flat. She heard a loud groan and then her mother's voice snapped through the steamy air.

"Where is my daughter you son of a bitch!" Kitty's stomach leaped to her throat and she hauled herself out of the tub as quickly as her rubbery limbs could manage. She searched about for a towel but only found a robe. She heard someone get punched, and quickly wrapped herself in the silky robe and tied the belt around her waist before rushing out of the bathroom.

"Mom?" She called in a panic. It probably would have been wiser not to sound so alarmed.

"Baby! Oh god, I'm so sorry, what did he do to you?" Her mother was suddenly in her face, searching her over for any new injuries or the sign of a struggle.

"What in the hell are you talking about!?" Kitty shoved away her mother's searching hands and pointed her eyes at her.

"He kidnapped you from the hospital!" Her mother was in a rage. "Did he drug you?" Kitty's mouth fell open and she put her hand to her aching head.

"You've got to be kidding me." She grumbled.

"No I'm afraid she's quite serious." Sherlock's arrogant voice was rough with discomfort. Kitty turned white and then became furious.

"Brooks, Carter, let him go right now!" Kitty ordered her mother's guards. She heard a thud and scowled. "I asked him to get me out, Mom! He didn't kidnap me!" Kitty wrapped the robe tighter around herself like it was her shield. Sherlock, unnerved by the sight of his bathrobe on a body that was not his own, took a deep breath before rising from the floor.

"You what!?" Her mother hissed. "What in the hell were you thinking!?"

"I don't have to explain myself!" Kitty snapped back. "I'm a grown woman! I don't need your permission anymore!" Kitty's mother gasped in offense.

"Katarina Anne Hudson, how **_dare_** you talk to your mother like that!" At that moment a calm, pompous voice interjected.

"Why Barbara, I didn't know you were in town." Mycroft's sickeningly sweet voice broke the tension in the air and Kitty's mother whipped around. Sherlock moved to Kitty's side, defensively placing himself between his brother and Kitty.

"Mycroft, what on earth are you doing here?" Her mother's voice rose an octave and she stretched out her arms to the slimy Englishman. Mycroft obliged and gave her a peck on the cheek as was polite.

"I'm here to deal with my little brother I'm afraid." Mycroft obviously found his statement distasteful. Kitty just stood there open mouthed.

"How in the hell do you know him!?" Kitty blurted out, utterly confused by what was going on.

"My brother is practically the entirety of the British government; it isn't out of his bounds to know the owner of the largest oil mining corporation on the east cost of the United States." Sherlock was muffling his voice with his hand. Kitty digested that information for a moment.

"Watch your mouth Kitty Anne, we're in polite company." Kitty's mother barely paused to throw out her admonition. "You mean this 'criminal' is your younger brother? Well I suppose every family has one." Kitty flushed at her mother's blatant rudeness towards Sherlock. She wanted to disown that woman. She felt Sherlock's hand on her hip, urging her to stay calm.

"I'm afraid so. I am so sorry about the discomfort he has caused you and your daughter." Mycroft sounded truly apologetic, but Kitty could hear the hiss in his words. He was a snake through and through. Sherlock's hand tightened on her hip and Kitty knew he'd be hurt by the statement.

"Excuse me?" Kitty snapped. She was so angry that she didn't care if she was in nothing but a silk robe. "He hasn't caused me **_any _**discomfort. He's the one who got me away from that basket case!" Kitty crossed her arms and was prepared to stand her ground.

She heard Sherlock clear his throat awkwardly, and Mycroft tapped something on the floor. It sounded like an umbrella.

"My apologies, regardless." Mycroft was trying to appease her and still manage to insult his younger brother.

"Come along, Kitty, let's leave them to it." Kitty's mother could have been calling a dog. The memory of Moriarty tugging her along on a leash flashed through Kitty's mind. Sherlock's hand dropped from her hip.

"No." Kitty wouldn't let herself be pushed around anymore. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did.

"Don't be childish, Kitty." Barbara snapped. "Go get some clothes, and **_come along_**." Barbara looked sharply at her daughter and didn't keep her frustration from her voice.

"She said no." Sherlock growled from beside Kitty, the anger in his voice startled her.

"Do I need to break that pretty British nose of yours?" Carter's rough southern voice came out as an intimidating rumble. Sherlock laughed, and the sound made Kitty feel a chill. It was a cold, empty laugh.

"Will your boyfriend help, or are you man enough to do it yourself?" Sherlock spat back Kitty put a hand on his arm trying to quiet him, but she could feel the anger, tightening his muscles. Kitty heard Carter take a step forward, all bulk and muscle. He had heavy blundering steps.

"I will have to advise against that Sergeant Carter." Mycroft chimed. "I'm afraid my brother would make quick work of you." Carter paused in his advance and rocked back on his heels. Kitty heard him crack his neck in the way he would always do when he was being restrained. She had grown up with Carter over her shoulder, watching her every move. She was all too familiar with his quirks.

"Good, dog." Sherlock quipped. Kitty slapped his arm.

"Stop it." Kitty grumbled. She then turned to her mother and pointed her blind eyes at the woman. "I'm going to stay here with Sherlock, you can leave if you'd like, I however, am going to get out of this robe and into some decent clothing." Kitty's tone didn't leave any room for discussion. "Would you like some tea Mycroft?" She asked, politely.

"I'm afraid I can't, my dear, I haven't much time, thank you though." Mycroft moved to take Sherlock's seat once again.

"Sit in my chair again and I'll-" Sherlock began.

"Unlike Sergeant Carter I'm not stupid enough to provoke you." Mycroft veered and set himself in John's chair. "At least not when your adrenaline is up." Kitty rolled her eyes and turned to leave but Sherlock yanked her back and pressed his warm lips to hers. Kitty squeaked in surprise but she melted as soon as his arm wrapped around her waist. The kiss wasn't as forceful as the other's. Kitty marveled at how much it felt like a 'thank you'. After a moment and an astounding silence he released her. Kitty wasn't going to ask. She was far too embarrassed. Sherlock had just kissed her in front of god and everyone.

"Your suitcase is in my room." Sherlock spun Kitty around, disoriented her, and pointed her in the direction of his bedroom. "Off you go." Kitty nodded and scurried away in the direction he had faced her. She discovered a door at the end of the little hallway where she had found the bathroom. To her delight her mother broke into a tirade as soon as she slipped into Sherlock's bedroom. She shut the door behind her and tried to block out her mother's nagging voice. Kitty took in a deep breath that was full of Old Spice and violin rosin. She hadn't realized that she'd been shaking. Kitty righted herself and pushed off of the door. It took her a few minutes to find her suitcase, but she was quick about yanking out her clothing and beginning to change. She had an infuriatingly hard time getting the tank top she had chosen over her head. Her bra hadn't been difficult since she could clasp it in the front and just spin it around, but getting the tank top on took several minutes of strategic shimmying. She pulled on a pair of work out shorts and braided her wet hair back. It was beginning to bunch into curls that would be hell to untangle. Kitty pulled the door open and walked out into the kitchen. She B-lined it for the stove and grabbed the kettle, as she turned to the sink to fill it she was met with a mountain of dishes.

"Jesus." She grumbled under her breath as she filled the Kettle and set it back on the stove to heat.

"You can't just keep her!" Barbara's American voice fell harshly on her daughter's ears. Kitty had grown so used to the soft British accents around her that her mother sounded foreign.

"I'm not keeping her." Sherlock countered. "She made the decision on her own."

The smell of Mycroft's extravagant musk had weakened. He must have left while Kitty was changing.

"He's right." Kitty added her own two cents to the conversation.

"You're not well, Kitty, after your trauma you can't possibly be expected to make these kinds of decisions." Barbara snapped, she had spoken entirely without thinking. Kitty stood straighter. A quiet rage clouded her pretty hazel eyes. Without a word she walked to the door and opened it. She pointed her finger out.

"Get out." Her voice was steady, but it was thick with anger.

"You can't be serious!" Her mother barked. "He's the one who took you from the hospital! He's the one keeping you from getting better!" Barbara pointed an accusative finger at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, John, and Gran are the only people in my life who don't treat me like I'm incapable!" Kitty's voice was raised and sharp. "I need that… So if you're going to get in the way of that I'm going to need you to leave." There was a pregnant pause before Kitty's mother scoffed and marched out. Brooks and Carter followed closely. Brookes paused for a moment, and put his hand on Kitty's shoulder. He was the younger and calmer of the two guards.

"Don't be too angry with her Katarina. She's just worried." Sherlock watched as the blonde guard took his paws off of Kitty and moved out of the doorway. The sight of another man's hands on Kitty had made his blood boil. It gave him fascinating insight into primal homosapien responses. Kitty shut the door and sighed.

"They didn't hurt you too badly did they?" She asked as she moved away from the door and stopped only a foot or so away from his chair. Kitty was both embarrassed and enraged by her mother's behavior. Sherlock's cheek throbbed where he had been punched and his stomach was sore for the same reason, but it was nothing he hadn't dealt with before.

"You're mother's goons aren't the first to try and hurt me, Kitty, and they are by far the least successful." Sherlock sounded proud of himself. Kitty knit her brows together, not sure what to make of his statement.

"I'm serious. Where did they hit you?" Kitty wasn't at all surprised that Sherlock had thrown up bravado in the face of her concern, but she wanted to know exactly what had been done to him. She needed to know what she would have to apologize for. She held out her hand in a silent gesture that very clearly said 'show me'. Sherlock gave a deep, annoyed sigh and Kitty could practically hear his eyes roll in his head.

"That is inconsequential." He grumbled. His eye landed on the soggy bandages that hung loosely around her outstretched arm, and in them he found the perfect change of topic. "I need to change your dressings." He leapt out of his chair and disappeared into his room after a few graceful strides.

"Oh no you don't." Kitty called after him as she put her hands on her hips. "I asked you a question." She sounded very stern. Sherlock returned to the living room with clean bandages and a bit of tape.

"Sit down, Sniffer Dog." Sherlock commanded before using his free hand to push her into his chair. Kitty's mouth fell open and her brows showed her outrage. Sherlock knelt in front of Kitty and took her bandaged arm in his hand so he could begin unwrapping it. "You shouldn't have allowed these to get wet." He scolded.

"You're unbelievable!" Kitty growled. "I'm not letting you change the subject, Sherlie! Where are you hurt?" Kitty allowed him to unbandage her arm and ignored how disgusting the cuts felt. His cool fingers deftly moved down her arm and made her shiver. Sherlock sighed once more. Kitty set her jaw and yanked her now naked arm away from his hands. "I'm being nice and **_asking_**. Don't make me figure it out, because you and I both know that I can." Sherlock glowered at the stubborn woman and contemplated whether or not to just walk away.

"Let me finish bandaging you, and I'll show you where I'm hurt." Sherlock couldn't understand why she was so worried about a few bruises, he'd seen far worse, but if it would make her behave he would show her. Kitty considered his offer for a long moment before reluctantly returning her arm to his cold hands. Sherlock wasted no time in wrapping her arm in the clean bandages. He didn't trust her not to go back on their agreement. As soon as her bandages were secured Kitty thrust her right hand forward and stared him down with her blind eyes. Sherlock was tempted to deny her just to witness another temper tantrum but he thought better of it. Kitty felt him take her good hand and place it against his left cheek. His flesh was hot and just a tiny bit puffy. Then he pulled her hand downward and pressed it against his stomach. Kitty flushed but kept her composure. She could feel his muscle through the thin button down shirt he was wearing. She had always thought that men wore tank tops underneath button down shirts but she could feel that there was nothing beneath the silky fabric except him. With a shudder she withdrew her hand and held it against her chest. She knew he would see her treacherous heartbeat pounding in her neck.

"Are you satisfied?" Sherlock quipped. Kitty could hear the cocky smirk in his voice. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Why should I be?" Kitty countered. She made a confused face and tilted her head slightly. Sherlock thought she had missed the point of his comment and was on the verge of explaining it to her. She let the silence drag out before she continued. "I haven't gotten to see the rest of you." Sherlock was blindsided by the sheer audacity of her flirtatious tone, just as he had been the night he had met her. Kitty heard him swallow and gave him a smirk of her own. She felt oddly powerful for having caught him off guard, and despite her better judgment telling her not to push it, she wanted to make him squirm. Kitty boldly reached out and hooked her finger under his shirt collar and tugged him towards her. "You're a great big tease, with your thin shirts and your deep, rumbly voice, but I'll bet you wouldn't have the guts." Kitty could feel his pulse against the back of her finger, and it was pounding. "Or would you?" Kitty leaned forward and pulled him in so that she could whisper in his ear. "Would you have the guts to**_ satisfy_** me?" A deep growl tore out of Sherlock's chest and startled Kitty.

"Shall I show you?" His voice was thick with outrage and arousal. She had challenged his resolve, which was not something he took lightly. Before Kitty could protest Sherlock had scooped her up and over his shoulder. Kitty let out a yelp of surprise and was disoriented when she was thrown down on something soft. She felt around her and realized she was on a bed, Sherlock's bed. Kitty felt like her entire body had gone bright red with embarrassment. "How shall I satisfy you?" Sherlock purred in the most predatorial voice Kitty had ever heard, then she felt warm lips brush over her thigh and she almost jumped.

"Sherlock." She tried to sound threatening but failed miserably. Sherlock crawled across the bed until he was supported above her on his hands and knees. Kitty felt suddenly very small beneath him. She could feel his weight pressing into the bed, and his warm breath washed over her cheeks.

"Shall I fuck you?" Sherlock mused aloud, watching her reactions flash across her face. He grabbed Kitty's knee and pulled it to his hip, letting her feel just how close he was. "Would that satisfy you, Katarina?" Kitty had lost her entire thought process. It was as though Sherlock had just wiped her mind clean of any response. She couldn't think of **_anything_** to say. Had he asked her what her name was she wouldn't have known. "Or would you like me to pleasure you?" The hand that held Kitty's knee brushed down the inside of her bare thigh and stopped just shy of Kitty's womanhood. Kitty's entire body tensed at the tickly sensation he had sent through her skin. She hated that he had so completely taken control of the situation. "Well?" Kitty struggled to find an answer. The one she found was not her best.

"You win!" She blurted out before trying to scoot out from under him, but Sherlock wouldn't have it.

"Do you really think this is still a game?" Sherlock asked, sounding both amused and frustrated at once. Kitty swallowed hard and held her hands up in a show of innocence. She had gotten herself into quite the pickle. Sherlock grabbed onto Kitty's hips and pulled her back underneath him. "Don't tell me you're afraid." Sherlock said in disbelief as he took in the rumpled state of Kitty's clothes and how little they covered her. He watched as her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and her eyes darted back and forth.

"Why are you doing this?" Kitty asked, sounding very nervous. Sherlock felt suddenly very guilty for losing control. He had taken the game to far. His desire to tease and take her was replaced by the entirely foreign desire to comfort her. His grip on her hips loosened and he leaned back onto his knees.

"I've frightened you." Sherlock stated. Kitty could hear disappointment in his voice. Sherlock hadn't a clue what he should do to make it better. "What did I do wrong?" Perhaps if he knew how he had scared her he would be able to deduce what the proper response was. Kitty put her hands to her forehead and shook her head.

"Nothing." She sounded like she was going to cry. Sherlock felt panic rising in his stomach; He **_hated_** tears.

"Then what's wrong?" Sherlock asked, sounding utterly confused. Kitty took her hands away from her face.

"I have no control around you!" Kitty shouted, suddenly she was angry. "All you have to do is open that big British mouth of yours and I turn into a pile of goo!" She pushed his hands away from her hips and scooted out from under him entirely. Sherlock didn't protest.

"I don't see anything wrong with that." Sherlock watched as Kitty stood and began pacing.

"Of course you wouldn't." Kitty grumbled. "You're **_you."_** Sherlock grimaced at her. She'd said it as though it were an insult. "If I let you do… that thing you would have done… I'd be unable to stop myself from getting emotionally attached." Sherlock knit his brows together he didn't understand what she meant. "And I'd fall in love with you." Kitty spit out the words with reckless abandon. She knew it was true, and she knew it was better if she made it very clear to him. They sat in a disturbed silence for a long time before Sherlock stood and exited the room. Kitty listened as he pulled on his trench coat and left.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************Authors Note:** **This chapter had a lot of tension in it! 'phew' I'm kind of glad I'm past it! Thank you all so much for your reviews and aspecial thanks to Black Rose Kali for taking so much time to seriously review my work in detail! It is extremely helpful!**


	11. Chapter 11

It took Kitty quite a while to recompose herself, but to her credit, she didn't cry. She hadn't expected Sherlock to react well to her little announcement and so it hurt a little less when he had left. Kitty wondered if she should leave and find somewhere else to stay but the idea didn't seem promising. Once she had calmed down a considerable amount Kitty realized how exhausted she was. Somehow she had forgotten her soreness, but it came back tenfold for having been ignored. With a sigh she sat down on Sherlock's bed and closed her eyes.

She certainly had never meant to fall asleep there but that was how Sherlock found her when he returned several hours later.

**Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock had roamed the streets of the city until it was dark outside and few others were out and about. He cast a brooding figure as he took long frustrated strides. Sherlock couldn't understand it, not any of it. Katarina Anne Hudson was the most confusing human being he'd ever met. She'd egged him on one minute and then slammed on the breaks when she had gotten what she'd asked for, which led to the mind blowing fact that she thought she'd fall in love with him if she hadn't stopped him. None of it made any sense. Love was just a chemical illusion, created by hormones. He could not help but wonder, though, what it would be like to be loved. His brother certainly didn't love him and his parents were contractually obligated to love him, and John… well John tolerated him in a way that was the closest to friendship as Sherlock had ever been. Sherlock didn't think he was the sort of person that anyone could love; in fact he was sure he wasn't. Kitty had to have been mistaken, besides, Sherlock was supposed to be above that. Why did he care? He'd never made a habit of caring before, why on earth did he suddenly have interest in how she felt about him.

Sherlock stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. He could have hated Kitty for how confused she had made him but he didn't. Mycroft's chiding words rang in his mind and made Sherlock cringe. '_Be careful, brother mine, you're becoming awfully __**attached**__ to that girl.'_ Sherlock forced his brother's words out of his head. Sherlock took in his surroundings and realized he had returned to Baker Street. He wondered if Kitty would still be in the flat, or if she had left. With sinking realization, he came to the conclusion that she would have left. With a frown he meandered into 221B and up the stairs to the second floor flat. The lights were on and John was sitting in his chair reading a paper. Sherlock slumped into his chair with a dramatic sigh and let his head loll back.

"Alright, Sherlock, where is she?" John was quick to his point as he folded his paper over his knee. "I know you got her out." Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at his friend.

"I don't know." He sounded very tired, and rough.

"What do you mean you don't know?" John asked in disbelief. "You lost her?" Sherlock grit his teeth. He didn't feel like explaining himself. He just wanted to sleep.

"I mean I don't know." He snapped back. "I left hours ago." Sherlock watched John lean back and clench his jaw.

"You left her alone?" John was very angry and Sherlock understood, for once, why.

"Yes." Sherlock breathed. He stood and stalked out of the living room. His bedroom was dark and quiet. He would be able to sleep there. Sherlock flicked on his light and was genuinely startled to find Kitty curled up on his bed, sleeping soundly. She had his favorite pillow clutched against her and her hair was sprawled across his sheets.

John came stomping through the kitchen, not willing to let it go.

"What is wrong with you!?" John barked, making Sherlock want to hit him.

"Shh!" Sherlock commanded. John was about to shout something back at him when he stepped into the room and saw Kitty sleeping.

"She's exactly where I left her." Sherlock hadn't meant to sound so surprised. John found himself at a loss for words. He didn't know whether to scold Sherlock or give him a pat on the back. He just threw up his hands at the situation and gently shook Kitty's shoulder.

"Kitty?" John called softly, so as not to startle her. Kitty gave a disoriented groan and her eyes peeked open. "Come on, old girl, you need to wake up." John gave Kitty another shake and as she began to stir, pulled her into a sitting position. Sherlock watched silently. Kitty rubbed her eyes and yawned.

**Kitty's POV**

"John?" Kitty croaked. Her voice was thick with sleep, and she felt numb. She was only on the edge of consciousness.

"How are you feeling?" John asked calmly. Kitty felt his warm fingers press against her wrist as he took her pulse.

"I've been better." Kitty felt her skin begin to prickle and realized that whatever the doctors in the hospital had given her had worn off. John gave a laugh of disbelief.

"I can imagine." He mumbled. "Have you had anything to drink since you left the hospital?" Kitty shook her head. Now that he mentioned it she felt terribly thirsty. "Sherlock, make sure she doesn't fall back asleep, I'm going to fetch a few things." Kitty felt her stomach twist as John stood and left the room. She hadn't realized Sherlock was there.

"You're still here." Sherlock stated in his baritone voice. Kitty nodded. She couldn't tell if Sherlock was angry or not.

"Sorry… I fell asleep." Kitty ran a hand through her tousled hair and swallowed nervously.

"I hope that isn't the only reason you're still here." Sherlock mumbled. Kitty raised her brows in surprise.

"No." She answered honestly. "I would have stayed either way." Kitty pointed her eyes at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her shorts.

"That…" Sherlock paused for a long time before continuing. "That is good." He sounded very awkward. Kitty held back a smile, at least he was pleased she had stayed. John came back into the room and handed Kitty a glass of water.

"Take a sip of that, and then I want you to take these." Kitty waited as John dropped two little pills into her hand. She obediently took several gulps of water before letting out a sigh of relief.

"What are the pills for?" She asked before popping them into her mouth. Kitty trusted John, which was more than she could say for any other doctor she had ever known.

"They're for the headache." John sounded unfocused as he rummaged through a bag at Kitty's feet. He was looking for something.

"I don't have a head ache." Kitty knit her brows together curiously.

"If you don't now, you will soon." John clarified. "Here it is." Kitty heard a cap being popped off of something. "I'm going to put a salve on your burns, is that alright?" Kitty nodded and took in the strange new smell that tickled her nose. It was sharp, like fresh mint, but also oddly sweet. She waited patiently as John put the cream on every one of her burns. She counted every spot. There were ten burns on her legs.

"There are a few on her stomach as well." Sherlock added. Kitty remembered with awful clarity how bare she had been when Moriarty held her captive. John and Sherlock had both seen her like that.

"I know." John replied. "May I?" Kitty was glad that John was asking. Many doctors would have just yanked up her shirt, without concern for her modesty, and gone about their business.

"Go ahead." Kitty pulled up the hem of her shirt and waited as John rubbed the salve into three more burns. The salve left her skin with an icy sensation that felt amazing. "You've got everything in that Mary Poppins bag of yours don't you?" Kitty teased. She heard John chuckle and smiled weakly. She still felt exhausted.

"Following Sherlock around is enough to make anyone over prepared." John returned the cap to the bottle of salve with a 'click' and dropped it back into his doctor's bag. "I want you to finish that glass of water before you fall asleep again, alright?" John had a talent at sounding as though he cared without speaking to her like a child.

"Whatever you say, Doc." Kitty turned her eyes to Sherlock and gave an apologetic smile. "I'll move out to the couch so you can sleep."

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "I'd like to speak with you… please." Kitty reigned in any sarcastic comment she had considered saying and nodded very solemnly. Sherlock wasn't the sort to say 'please' so whatever it was must have been important.

"I'll leave you two to it then." John mumbled awkwardly before scurrying out of the room. Kitty frowned and lowered her head. She wasn't sure she was ready for what he was going to say.

"I've been considering what you said earlier this afternoon." Sherlock began, sounding very formal. Kitty flushed and wanted to disappear. She had been pretty fired up when she'd told Sherlock she'd fall in love with him if he had sex with her, which she realized sounded ridiculous, and had been running on the courage one gets from anger. She wasn't angry anymore, and so had lost her courage.

"You don't have to say anything." Kitty interrupted. "I know that you won't want to be near me anymore and I understand."

"Kitty-" Sherlock sounded frustrated and it only served to spur Kitty's wall of words onward.

"And I know that you don't have those sorts of relationships, and that you probably thought I was crazy for saying something like that." Kitty was forcing the words out as quickly as possible, she didn't want him to have the chance to speak. "I know you'd never stoop so low as to waste time on anyone like me." Kitty felt her throat tightening and her breaths becoming quicker. She was getting too worked up.

"**Katarina**." Sherlock snapped. Kitty fell silent and bit her bottom lip. He sounded angry. "You are one of the few people on this planet whom I do not consider to be a waste of time. Although I do think you must be 'crazy', as you put it, it is merely because I'm one of the most unlovable wretches you may ever come across… The idea of anyone outside of my parents loving me is an impossibility." Kitty held her breath, and waited. It struck her as such a horribly sad thing. He was a brilliant man, albeit an asshole, but he was a genius, and he used his genius to help people. "I haven't the slightest idea what people perceive love to be. It has never mattered to me. I know that it is caused by chemicals in the brain, and that is all I know… But despite what I have tried very hard to make people believe, I too am human, and therefore also have a brain…" Sherlock paused and was very quiet. Kitty could hardly hear him breathing. "I may not be good at what you call love, Katarina, but I am terrifyingly capable of it." Kitty was astounded by the intimacy of his statement. He was afraid and he had admitted it. She couldn't find any words. She had very wrongly imagined him as a hard, unfeeling, robot, and she was ashamed of herself.

"I'm sorry." Kitty took the breath she had been holding and was surprised to feel hot tears roll down her cheeks.

"Don't." Sherlock said firmly. "You're not allowed to cry." Sherlock sounded like a peeved little boy, but he reached out and wiped away her tears all the same. It was an uncharacteristically sweet gesture. Kitty nodded and tried to stop herself from letting anymore tears fall.

"Are you mad at me?" Kitty's voice was shaky, and she cursed herself for sounding so afraid.

"Believe me when I say, I wish I could be." Sherlock sighed. He sounded exhausted. "It would be so much _easier_ if I was." Kitty nodded in understanding and pointed her eyes at him.

"What now?" She hadn't meant to ask such a big question in so few words but she didn't know how else to ask.

"Now I would like to sleep… with you next to me." Sherlock wasn't going to mince his thoughts. If he was going to deal with the utterly infuriating urges he had recently fallen victim to he would not keep them to himself. Kitty blushed. That wasn't the answer she had been expecting, but it seemed like a very pleasant course of action.

"Alright." She said with a small shrug.

"Good." Sherlock let out a sigh and began yanking off his coat, which was soon followed by his clothing. Once he was down to his boxers he pulled back the covers, but paused abruptly in his motions.

"What is it?" Kitty asked, sensing that he wanted to say something.

"I-." Sherlock began his sentence but stopped.

"Yes?" Kitty coaxed. He was obviously turning something over in his mind.

"I'm never going to be the man you deserve…" He stated in frustration. "I won't buy you flowers, or candy, or tote you around on a ridiculous number of **_dates_**." He was obviously very uncomfortable with what he was saying. "But if you're willing to put up with that, then I don't see why we cannot explore this." Kitty digested the information he had given her. She really didn't like candy, and flowers made her sneeze, as for dates, well, she hadn't even allowed herself to imagine that sort of thing.

"What exactly are you saying?" Kitty wasn't going to go on his vague words. He needed to explain himself in no uncertain terms.

"You know exactly what I said." Sherlock quipped stubbornly. Kitty turned to face him and pinned him down with her eyes. Sherlock still hadn't become used to her ability to make him feel chastised with no more than a glance. He rolled his eyes and got under the covers. "I am open to a relationship." He grumbled reluctantly as he settled himself on the soft mattress. Kitty nodded, both pleased and surprised by his admittance.

"I have one condition." Kitty leaned back against the head board and crossed her arms over her stomach. She was prepared for a refusal.

"Go on." Sherlock sounded intrigued and half asleep at the same time.

"If we do agree to a relationship, you will not hide me from the world." She felt like she was discussing some sort of contract. "You will hold my hand in public from time to time, and you won't deny our relationship if anyone asks." Kitty felt nerves rise in her stomach. She could imagine far too many scenarios where Sherlock would be too proud to admit he had a girlfriend. If he agreed to her terms then she would be exactly that, Sherlock Holmes' girlfriend.

"That sounds reasonable. I've already kissed you in front of several people, holding your hand is hardly comparable." Sherlock gave a long yawn. "I'll agree to your terms, but I have a condition of my own." Kitty listened closely, she was curious as to what he would ask. "If we do indeed have a relationship, you will move in with me here, and stay in my room with me at night." Kitty raised her eyebrows and flushed a bit.

"That usually takes couples months to get to." Kitty chewed lightly on her bottom lip as she considered his condition. It was a huge thing, moving in with someone, and she wasn't sure he knew what he was asking for.

"I think that we can both agree that as a '_couple'_ we would be far from usual." Sherlock sounded very logical in his argument; he was treating it like a debate. Kitty had to smile at the hilarity of their situation. "I cannot protect you any other way." Sherlock reached out and took Kitty's bandaged arm in his hands. "You have seen what people will do to try and hurt me." Kitty swallowed hard. Being with Sherlock Holmes meant being in danger. "If you are mine, I will die before I let them harm you again." Sherlock sounded very serious. Kitty felt a pang of butterflies in her stomach. He meant every bit of what he had said. Kitty nodded solemnly and took a deep breath.

"Ok." She patted his large hand in reassurance and smiled. "You drive a hard bargain." She said jokingly, trying to lighten the serious mood. She thought she heard Sherlock chuckle. Sherlock's arms snaked around her waist and dragged her towards him. He settled her with her back against his chest and her body held snugly against him. Sherlock thought it was strange how pleasant it was to be so near to another person. Kitty smiled broadly and let out a laugh.

"What is funny?" Sherlock asked, barely interested. He was bone tired and the warmth of her skin was lulling him to sleep.

"The great and powerful Sherlock Holmes is cuddling with me." She sounded deeply amused.

"Shut up and go to sleep." He grumbled; her words had thoroughly embarrassed him.

"It's a good thing, Sherlock." She reassured, despite his order to be quiet. "I'm just pleasantly surprised." Sherlock stayed quiet and Kitty couldn't help but smile wider. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sniffer Dog." Sherlock mumbled, he was barely conscious anymore.

Before long, the two insomniacs had fallen into a deep sleep.

_Kitty was in the dark, and everything was hazy. An awful burning smell filled her nose. She could see herself, as an eight year old little girl with enormous glasses and braided pigtails. She was scared, and clutching her beloved teddy bear for dear life. Three men were huddled in a corner, speaking a strange language. They had guns and kept using them to point at her as they argued in their harsh guttural tones. Fear, it was so overpowering. Kitty wasn't even restrained. She'd watched the three men kill her favorite teacher and two of her classmates just to get to her. She was too smart to try anything. She watched as the men pointed looks of disgust in her direction. She'd never been looked at like that before. One of the men had an ugly scar that ran down his left arm, and through a snake tattoo. The snake was green, with awful red eyes. She was scared of him the most. He had hurt Mrs. Campbell, and there had been so much blood. There was a loud crash that made little Kitty jump and three men came into the room. Yelling and pointing guns at her abductors. Suddenly everyone was yelling and pointing guns, and Kitty covered her ears. _

Kitty shot up in bed. Someone was holding her down, and she immediately began to panic. She scrambled to get away from whoever was holding her.

"Kitty?" Sherlock was roughly wakened from the deepest sleep he'd had in a long while and released Kitty from his grip when he realized how frightened she was. Kitty had been in such a rush to get out of his grasp that as soon as Sherlock released her she tumbled off of the bed onto the hard floor and smacked her head on the foot of his dresser. She let out a yelp of pain and grabbed her head as she began to shake violently. Sherlock leapt to the floor beside her and reached out to calm her but as soon as his hand touched her skin she shoved it away and her eyes darted around wildly as she backed into the corner. "It's all right, Sniffer Dog." Sherlock tried to sound as soothing as he could. He didn't know what to do to calm her. John was the expert on that sort of thing. Kitty's eyes stopped their panicked darting and bore holes into him.

"Sherlock?" Kitty croaked; she was shaking like a leaf. She reached out her hand hesitantly and Sherlock very gently took it.

"That's right. You're safe, remember?" Sherlock tried to choose the most reassuring words he could find in his muddled state. Kitty pressed his hand to her cheek and pinched her hazel eyes shut. His hand was warm and rough against her skin. She latched all of her thoughts onto the feel of his touch and fought to lower her heart rate and calm herself. The awful headache that always precluded her pseudo-seizures was creeping into her skull like a haze. Sherlock didn't know what to do. He could see emotions flashing across Kitty's face as she battled against her own body, and it startled him. She was obviously in distress but she didn't say anything, and she hardly made a noise. "What can I do?" Sherlock was not used to feeling helpless and it terrified him. Kitty's eyes which had seemed to fade from focus widened and she was suddenly back with him.

"Hold me." Kitty breathed in a moment of weakness. She was too tired to fight it on her own, and she could feel her control slipping through her fingers. Sherlock didn't hesitate. He would do anything to abate his feeling of uselessness and return Kitty to her usual, calm state of mind. Kitty crawled into his lap and Sherlock cradled her. He tried not to think about the way the pain Kitty was exhibiting made his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and focused. His warm scent filled her nose and chased away the memory of the burning smell. Kitty took long slow breaths and began to count down from one hundred. It was a struggle, but within five minutes her shaking had all but stopped and her heartrate was back to its usual rhythm. When Sherlock had determined that she was relatively stable he cleared his throat awkwardly and fidgeted a bit.

"May I ask what brought this on?" He thrummed in a voice that made him sound barely conscious. Now that the crisis had been avoided his body wanted him to lie down and go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." Kitty mumbled, diverting the conversation. She didn't want to talk about it. Sherlock nodded, not in forgiveness but in understanding.

"I won't press you then." Sherlock understood wanting to keep certain memories private. Kitty smiled slightly despite herself and gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek as her thanks. "Do you think you will be able to fall asleep?" He asked, leaning ever so slightly into her soft kiss. Sherlock hadn't even noticed he'd done it but Kitty did.

"Probably not." She admitted with a frustrated sigh.

"Would you like me to play for you again?" Sherlock offered. He was very tired, but his guilt would not allow him to sleep while Kitty sat awake.

"Actually, I'm really hungry." Kitty was suddenly very aware of her empty stomach and it growled in discontent. Sherlock grinned in amusement.

"I know a place that will be open." Sherlock announced, pleased that the situation had returned to normal.

"I could just make a sandwich." Kitty scooted out of Sherlock's lap and pulled herself to her feet using the corner of the mattress.

"With what ingredients?" Sherlock countered, as he stood and opened his dresser in search of clean dress pants. Kitty couldn't find a reply to that so she simply shrugged.

"Ok, Mr. Man, we'll do it your way. I don't know about you but thumb sandwich doesn't sound very appealing" Kitty tiptoed across the cold floor to her suitcase and began rummaging through it. Sherlock screwed his face into a look of distaste.

"Mr. Man?" He repeated, sounding appalled. Kitty chuckled and shook her head at him.

"You're a man aren't you? If you're not I've got bad news for you." Kitty pointed a smile at him. "You're one deep voiced lady." Sherlock let out an 'almost-laugh' and pulled on a black pair of dress pants. Once Kitty had collected a pair of jeans, a kami, and a nice warm sweater she padded across the room towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock caught her by the arm and tugged just enough to make her spin around.

"I'm going to change." Kitty used a tone that made it sound so obvious. Sherlock just smirked.

"You mean I don't get to help?" Sherlock watched as Kitty turned red and he saw that she was about to chide him. "Your arm is still hurt isn't it? I was thinking of your comfort, naturally."

"Smooth save." Kitty poked Sherlock's bare chest defiantly. "If you try **_any_** funny business I'll turn you into a eunuch." She said firmly. Sherlock smirked and took her folded clothing out of her arms.

"That's an awfully ambitious threat." Sherlock commented.

"Don't think I won't." Kitty grumbled as she lifted her arms above her head, showing that she was willing to let him help. "I only need help with my shirts." She clarified. Sherlock hooked his fingers under Kitty's light blue tank top and shimmied it up her torso and over her head. He examined her stomach closely, it was pale, just like the rest of her, but three bright red Taser marks marred her smooth skin. The sight of her burns made Sherlock want to murder whoever had put them there. Sherlock took the pale green kami in his hands and directed it over Kitty's arms. She was blushing, but her face was bunched in a stubborn look. Once Sherlock had gotten the light purple sweater into place on Kitty's abdomen she nodded her thanks and backed a bit away from him.

"Now turn around." She demanded. Sherlock had to chuckle at her modesty. "I'll know if you don't!" Kitty warned. Sherlock didn't think she would but he turned his back anyway and waited as Kitty changed into her pants. "Alright now, hurry up and get dressed." Kitty teased. "I thought the chick was supposed to take longer to get ready." She felt a bit awkward and was reverting to breaking silence with jokes. Sherlock didn't respond, or laugh, he just silently finished dressing and putting on his shoes. Kitty fidgeted a bit as she waited for him to be ready.

Once they had both bundled up, Sherlock in his trench coat and Kitty in her blue wool coat, they exited the building into the cold night air. Sherlock took Kitty's hand and led her down the street. It must have been really late because Kitty didn't hear any taxis or cars on the street, and their footsteps echoed softly off of the buildings.

"Are you sure this place will be open?" Kitty asked, feeling doubtful. Sherlock snorted as though she'd asked a stupid question and didn't answer her. "I'll take that as a very arrogant yes." She quipped. Kitty thought she heard Sherlock laugh. The two walked in a comfortable silence for quite a while before Sherlock stopped Kitty and pulled open a door that had a loud bell on it which jangled when the door was opened. Kitty stepped through the doorway and was met with the smell of Italian food.

"Sherlock, you've brought a lady friend!" A deep voice boomed from a few paces away. The sudden volume of the greeting made Kitty jump.

"Angelo, this is Katarina." Sherlock introduced them absently as he led Kitty to a booth and sat himself down. Kitty followed suit and scooted into the booth.

"Pleased to meet you," Kitty smiled and held her hand out. A large sausage-y hand took hers and shook it so hard she thought he'd break it off.

"Likewise! You've got a good man here, the best if you ask me, he saved my life!" Angelo seemed like a very boisterous man. Kitty heard Sherlock sigh.

"He seems to be very good at that." Kitty answered with a kind grin.

"How'd you manage to snag this one?" Angelo stage whispered to Sherlock. Sherlock was extremely uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Well he charmed me with his manners of course." Kitty joked sarcastically. Angelo chortled loudly and set two menus on the table.

"I'll let you two have some time to figure out your orders. Remember everything is on the house." Kitty listened as Angelo shuffled away and gave Sherlock a delighted smile.

"Were do you find these people?" Kitty asked sounding almost giddy. Sherlock shrugged and pulled off his coat.

"Prison cells usually." Sherlock grumbled in response. For some reason his answer struck Kitty as hilarious and she let out a peel of laughter. Sherlock frowned and sat back; he wasn't fond of being laughed at. "What's so funny?"

"The fact that I know you're completely serious." Kitty ran a hand through her hair. "It's an unusual answer, that's all." Sherlock watched her face for any clue that she was lying, but she passed with flying colors. Sherlock began to fiddle with his silverware, unwrapping them from the napkin they had been swaddled in and arranging them precisely.

"So what is good here?" Kitty asked, breaking the strange silence.

"Everything really." Sherlock rubbed his chin and looked up at Kitty, who raised an eyebrow at his short answer. She gave him an unperturbed smile.

"I guess I'll just have to try everything then." Kitty teased. Sherlock frowned and thought for a moment.

"I'll order for you." He decided. Kitty leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, taking in their surroundings.

"It will be a surprise then." Kitty nodded, showing that she was pleased with the idea. Sherlock let out a long yawn and blinked sleepily. He wasn't used to feeling so tired, then again he wasn't used to actually getting sleep either. "So aside from solving crimes, experimenting on cadavers and playing the violin, what do you like to do?" Kitty was attempting at conversation. Sherlock groaned. He hated idle prattle. Kitty chewed her lip and searched for another topic that might be more pleasant for the exhausted drama queen before her. "How'd you find me?" Kitty blurted out the sentence, coming to the idea and throwing it out there instantly. She heard Sherlock shift in the squeaky vinyl seat.

"What do you mean? He asked in a tone that didn't sound very interested but Kitty was pleased to just get a response out of him.

"How did you know I wasn't dead?" She figured she would start with the most interesting question.

"I didn't… I wasn't certain, anyway. I simply couldn't believe you would be so stupid as to get yourself killed." Sherlock sounded very haughty, but Kitty could hear something a bit off in his tone. He sounded a little sad.

"That's a pretty high compliment coming from you, I suppose." Kitty responded with a small smile. "How did you know I would be at that pool?" She continued, curious now, how his brilliant mind had figured it out.

"If you were still alive Moriarty would have wanted you close on hand, he wouldn't leave his only power play with some laky… So I drew him out with the Bruce Partington plans and told him to meet me there at midnight, under the assumption that he would bring you with him."

"Remind me never to play chess with you." Kitty joked.

"Noted." Sherlock thrummed. Kitty heard Angelo begin to make his way over to them again and turned her eyes in his direction.

"Are you two love birds ready to order?" He asked in his deep, happy voice. Sherlock almost gagged.

"We are **_not_** '_love birds'_." Sherlock grumbled. Kitty chuckled at his childish behavior. "We have simply agreed to a pseudo-monogamous relationship." Sherlock sounded so disgruntled.

"Tomayto tomahto." Kitty countered. Sherlock scowled at Kitty and sighed heavily.

"I'll have three servings of spaghetti and she will have the salmon." Sherlock spat out. Kitty's eyes went wide.

"Three servings?" She couldn't keep the astonishment out of her voice.

"He always gets at least three of whatever he orders if he isn't on a case." Angelo sounded just as mystified by it as Kitty. She pointed her eyes at Sherlock and gave him a questioning look.

"Digesting slows me down." It seemed to be the only answer he was willing to give and he did not offer to elaborate. "We'll both have coffee." Sherlock ended their order and Angelo grunted and lumbered away. "Do you remember anything about the place where you were held?" Sherlock jumped back to their previous topic with a question of his own. Kitty felt suddenly uncomfortable and frowned a little.

"It was very cold." She recounted quietly. "I never heard anything except the I.V machine and Moriarty's voice, coupled with that and the fact that it smelled moldy I was probably underground somewhere." Kitty's voice waivered but she kept herself thinking logically. "I never left the bed until he took me to you, but I'm sure he moved me while I was drugged." Sherlock made a 'hmm' noise and was silent for a moment or two.

"It is a pity you were drugged, you would have more information for me otherwise." Sherlock mused. Kitty shrugged, and toyed with a strand of her hair.

"Sorry, I'll pay more attention next time." Kitty had tried to speak with some amount of levity but it hadn't worked.

"There won't be a next time." Sherlock replied somberly. "If _I'd_ been paying attention _this time_ wouldn't have happened." Sherlock's cool tone betrayed him slightly and Kitty tilted her head.

"It happened, and there's no use playing the 'what if?' game." Kitty sighed gently. "Things worked out one way or another and here we are." She had to live by that sort of ideology otherwise she'd get tangled up in things that never happened.

"Agreed." Sherlock mumbled. He felt very drowsy and he didn't like it. The two fell silent for a long time before Kitty spoke again.

"I remember, during the last phone call, thinking that I'd kiss you when you found me." Kitty said with a chuckle.

"Your thought process is spectacularly strange." Sherlock sounded like he was fighting back a smile and it made Kitty feel like she had lifted the dower mood a bit.

"Tell me something I don't know." Kitty began running her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the tangled mess. Sherlock watched as the soft red tresses slid through Kitty's fingers and had to make himself look away.

"I think it would be appropriate to discuss the terms of our agreement." Sherlock began sounding very serious. Kitty's grin faltered for a moment and she looked at him curiously.

"Ok, what terms would you like to discuss." She figured that talking about their relationship in such a formal way helped Sherlock cope with the idea so she used his rhetoric.

"Terms regarding appropriate physical contact." Sherlock sounded deadly serious so Kitty held back the giggles that rose in her throat.

"Go on." Kitty gave him the floor. If she were to talk just then, she would burst out in laughter, and she knew how grumpy that made Sherlock.

"I know that I may hold your hand, but I do not know your boundaries regarding any other forms of contact." Sherlock laced his fingers together and leaned his chin on them. He was very curious as to her answer.

"That hasn't stopped you before." Kitty gave him a devilish grin. Sherlock felt his stomach twist as he remembered the sight of Kitty flushed and breathless beneath him. He took a deep breath to settle himself.

"I would like to handle our agreement in a way that makes you comfortable." Sherlock clarified. "I apologize if any of our previous '_interactions'_ had the opposite effect." He watched as Kitty blinked dumbly for a few moments before giving him a strange sort of smile. Sherlock didn't recognize the look of endearment.

"Alright." Kitty began braiding her messy hair. "Start listing things off and I'll tell you how I feel about them." She listened as Sherlock began to readjust, and fidget like an old hen. He must have been taken off guard by her request. "Don't worry; I won't get mad at anything you say." She reassured. Sherlock considered her for a moment and then relinquished himself to her request.

"Embraces?" He began. If it had been in his disposition to blush he would have turned red. He could hardly understand why he felt so cautious, and nervous about such simple things.

"I like those." Kitty grinned at him. "Embraces are perfectly allowed." He was letting her set the rules, and she loved it.

"Kisses?" Sherlock continued. Kitty paused and thought for a moment. She _definitely_ liked those if she was going to be honest about it.

"Yes, they're allowed." Kitty nodded and waited for his next example, which was a long time coming.

"Sex?" He'd taken up his somber tone again and sounded like a picture of formality. Kitty felt herself go red but she didn't respond on reaction. She thought about it for a moment.

"That will be allowed when you decide you're ready to deal with the emotional consequences."

"That sounds reasonable." Sherlock agreed. Kitty marveled at her situation. She was out at god only knows what hour with a British detective, discussing their relationship like a contract. It sounded like a cheesy comedy. Angelo shuffled out of the kitchen and was preceded by the delicious smell of herbs, tomato sauce and cheese. Kitty heard her stomach growl and got herself ready to dig in as soon as the plate was set before her.

"It smells delicious, Angelo." Kitty complemented politely.

"Thank you! I hope you enjoy it!" Kitty was slowly beginning to get used to the near painful volume of Angelo's voice.

"She will." Sherlock took the cup of coffee that was set before him and gulped down the hot liquid like a shot. Angelo was already prepared with the coffee thermos when Sherlock set his cup down again. Kitty found her silverware and stuck her fork into something on her plate. Unless she actually touched her food she never knew what she was digging into. She raised the bite to her mouth and tasted it. The slippery texture of fish and the warm flavors of garlic, butter and rosemary delighted her tongue. She couldn't help but groan in appreciation.

"Good lord that's good." She groaned between mouthfuls. Angelo gave a hearty laugh and then left them alone. Sherlock tucked into his spaghetti and finished off the first bowl within ten minutes.

"I can see why you like this place." Kitty knew she didn't have to make conversation, but she felt comfortable, so her mouth just ran on its own. Sherlock pulled his second bowl from the corner of the table at the same moment as he shoved the first bowl away.

"It's always open." Sherlock gave a subconscious shrug and took another bite.

"I have a feeling I'll be eating here a lot." Kitty smiled and sat back from her food for a moment to let herself digest a bit.

"Your feeling is correct." Sherlock mumbled through a mouthful of spaghetti. Kitty laughed at his poor manners and smiled at him. He was human after all.

**Author's Note: Ok so I apologise for how long this chapter took but hopefully you guys will like it! Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to review and read!**


	12. Chapter 12

Kitty and Sherlock left Angelo's just as the city began to wake up and sleepy morning commuters filled the streets. They returned to 221 B just as John was stumbling out of his room to take his morning shower.

"Where were you two?" He mumbled in a rough voice that made Kitty grin.

"Out." Sherlock replied tersely as he pulled off his coat and threw it onto the couch. He was in a particularly grumpy mood for some reason.

"We were at Angelo's." Kitty clarified. She wasn't even going to bother telling Sherlock to be nice.

"It's only- 5:45 in the morning. When did you leave?" Kitty could tell that John wasn't a morning person

"I don't know. I just couldn't sleep, so Sherlock took me out to eat." Kitty sent a cheery smile John's way and scooted past him into the Kitchen. John looked at Sherlock quizzically.

"You took her to Angelo's for your first date? Really, Sherlock?" John sounded exasperated.

"It wasn't a date! It was a meal shared between two adults, nothing more." Sherlock grumbled in a childish tone.

"Tomayto Tomahto!" Kitty chimed from the kitchen, repeating her earlier sentiment. She thought it was ridiculous how touchy Sherlock was about rhetoric. She knew that Sherlock would be Sherlock, however, and she didn't mind if he was awkward about it. John shook his head and sighed before shuffling into the bathroom and shutting the door.

"Was it really that awful?" Sherlock asked as he joined Kitty in the kitchen. He sounded mildly unsure of himself, despite his obvious attempt to hide it. Kitty shook her head and began scrubbing the dishes that had piled up during her short absence.

"I loved it, Sherlie, don't let anybody make you think otherwise." She shook one of her loose hairs out of her face and yawned quietly. Sherlock stood and watched Kitty as she washed the dishes, completely ignoring the fact that she was once again soaking her bandages.

"Why on earth are you doing that?" Sherlock asked, honestly curious. He never did dishes; they just seemed to somehow manage to clean themselves and reappear in the cupboards.

"So my poor Gran won't have to." Kitty answered with a smile. "Besides, it makes me feel helpful." She grabbed a plate and began scrubbing it. Sherlock fell silent and was content with watching Kitty. She swayed side to side as though she were listening to a song no one else could hear and her hazel eyes pointed straight ahead at the blank wall. Sherlock liked that he could observe her without getting dirty looks. Most women would become offended if he would observe them for too long, but Kitty just went about her business.

"See something you like?" Kitty teased after a few minutes of Sherlock's silence.

"How did you know I was looking?" Sherlock gave a small tired grin at her sass.

"I can feel those eyes, Sherlock." She answered with a wry smile. It was true. Somehow she just knew when he was looking at her.

"That's impossible." Sherlock mumbled, not satisfied with her answer. Kitty just grinned in a knowing way and shrugged her response. After a moment she paused in what she was doing and her face morphed from happy to thoughtful.

"What color are your eyes, Sherlock?" A memory of a dream she'd had days ago popped into her head and she felt extremely curious.

"Blue I suppose." Sherlock found himself surprisingly unbothered by having to answer such a trivial question. "Why?"

"I had a dream about a man with blue eyes the other night." She returned to her scrubbing. "I just remember his eyes though." She blinked a few times, trying to recall what had happened in her dream, then she blushed as it came back to her.

"Really?" Sherlock found his interest piqued.

"Yeah." Kitty began to clean with a bit more industry and tried to look focused. Sherlock smirked at the way she attempted to hide her embarrassment from him.

"Did he do anything to you I ought to be jealous of?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Kitty and watched as she donned a cheeky smile. She was going to use his interest against him.

"Oh he did _everything_ you should be jealous of." Kitty was pleased when she heard a small groan from Sherlock. For the moment she had an upper hand.

"I think I'd like to kill him." Sherlock grumbled. Kitty laughed outright and shook her head.

"You'll have your chance, big boy." Kitty teased as she reached for the last dish in the sink. She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her stomach and soft lips press against her neck.

"I would like to remind you that I am a _man_ not a _boy._" Sherlock growled into her ear. Kitty shivered and set the dish back down.

"Believe me, I know." Kitty murmured as she tilted her head away from him, instinctively bearing her neck to him. Sherlock grinned and pressed another possessive kiss to her throat. He was unfamiliar with the unbearable desire to make her his, and nobody else's.

"I have another condition." Sherlock murmured against her skin. Kitty shivered a bit, but responded clearly.

"And what might that be?" She felt a bit flustered. She still wasn't used to his touch. It felt like some sort of forbidden fruit that nobody was supposed to have.

"During our… agreement… you will not let any other man touch you, the way that I do." Sherlock's tone did not leave room for questions, however Kitty's response surprised him.

"Of course not." She blurted out as though his request had been amusing. Kitty felt Sherlock tense up and begin to pull away. He was curling back up into his shell and it made her panic. She had said the wrong thing. "I mean that I would never hurt you that way." She clarified in a much more reasonable voice. Sherlock paused and she heard him grunt in approval. Just then Sherlock's cellphone began to ring and he moved away from Kitty to answer it.

"Holmes." He answered in a haughty tone. Kitty raised her eyebrows and gave a small grin. He was such a peacock.

"We'll be there in half an hour." Sherlock unceremoniously ended the call and rapped on the bathroom door. "Lestrade has a case for us! Hurry up!" Kitty set down the last dish and dried her hands on a dish rag.

"Do you want me to pick up any groceries while you guys are out?" Kitty asked as she began fiddling with the loose bit of wet bandage that kept tickling the back of her hand. Sherlock looked at her like she had a third head.

"You're coming with us." Sherlock stated as if it was plain as the nose on her face.

"Oh." Kitty didn't hide her surprise. "Ok."

True to Sherlock's word they were there within an half hour. John and Sherlock ushered Kitty through the commotion of forensic teams and forensic photographers and the like. The smell of Lestrade's woodsy cologne preceded him and Kitty smiled in the direction he was coming from.

"Hello, Greg." Kitty almost laughed when Greg let out a surprised grunt.

"I guess you're part of the team now, then?" Greg asked as he joined the trio and led them towards what Kitty could only assume was the scene of the crime.

"You found her that way?" Sherlock interjected and sped up, reaching the body before anyone else. She was strung upside down from a fire escape ladder.

"Well we certainly didn't put her up there." Lestrade groused. Sherlock pointed a glare at Lestrade and returned to his examination of the corpse. He was silent, as he deduced everything he could about the girl. "She's a Jane Doe, no wallet or I.D."

"Why haven't you cut her down?" John asked, sounding a bit flummoxed.

"Sherlock would have thrown a tantrum." Kitty guessed, and when no one debated her answer she figured she was right. "Where is she John?" Kitty asked, curious as to why everyone seemed so disturbed by the position of the corpse.

"She's hanging from a fire escape. " John clarified. Kitty grimaced.

"By her neck?" Kitty wanted to know the details, because if she was going to be there she wanted to help. John shook his head and then remembered that Kitty couldn't see him.

"No, by her knees and elbows, she's upside down." John didn't sound bothered by her questions, so Kitty continued.

"How do you plan to get her down?" Kitty asked in Lestrade's direction.

"That's not my department, Anderson take's care of the bodies." Lestrade explained. Kitty nodded. Sherlock moved away from the corpse and returned to his colleagues.

"Cut her down, I'd like for Kitty and John to examine her now." Sherlock spoke with an air of authority that didn't leave room for questions. Kitty shivered in the chill morning breeze and frowned. She'd never examined a human body before. Animals, yes, she was a biologist for god's sake but what Sherlock thought she would be able to get from a human body she didn't know. Lestrade must have given a gesture because suddenly the area was teaming with people and orders were being given by a man with a nasal voice that was unsettling to Kitty. After a few minutes there was a crash and Kitty heard a sickening crunching sound as the body hit the ground.

"For Christ's sake Anderson! You're supposed to preserve the evidence not defile it!" Sherlock snapped; Kitty couldn't agree more. John took her arm and led her over to where the body had landed. Kitty began to concentrate. She could smell several things at once and when John released her she took her time sifting through the scents. They were in an alley somewhere, she could hear traffic but it was a ways off and the noise of it echoed off of walls that were close around them. She could smell garbage, and exhaust. The sweet smell of fallen rain tickled her nose. Then there were the familiar smells, John's spicy after shave, and Sherlock's Old Spice. Traces of other men's cologne were left behind as well, then kitty smelled it; A light floral scent, probably lilac or lavender.

"John, show me where she is." Kitty held out her hand and waited as John took it and pointed it to the body. Kitty nodded. "Any gloves for me?" She asked, feeling the latex gloves on John's hands.

"Are we going to let just any Sally off the street touch the evidence now?" The man named Anderson.

"Shut up, Anderson." John and Sherlock snapped at the same time. Kitty raised her eyebrows and wondered if the man would respond. He just slapped a pair of gloves into her outstretched hands and grunted. Kitty brushed his negative mood out of her mind and pulled the gloves on as she knelt down. She kept the latex as tight over her finger tips as she could so that she would be able to feel.

"No signs of asphyxiation, no ligature marks except the ones from her bonds." John began, Kitty nodded and began examining the woman with her sense of touch. Her skin was cold and clammy, probably from the rain… but her clothing was dry. Kitty furrowed her brows together.

"John, how far gone is she?" Kitty asked as her hand found the spot on the woman's bare arm where the ropes had dug into her flesh. She wasn't wearing a coat.

"Hard to say, she hasn't gone into rigor yet, but she's too cold to be so fresh." John sounded bewildered. Kitty kneaded the mark on the woman's arm gently. Something wasn't right, her flesh was still soft, and the skin where the ropes had dug in was puffy… it was almost warm. Then she felt it, the faintest beat beneath the woman's skin.

"Oh, my god." Kitty breathed. She leaned down and pressed her ear to the woman's chest, much to Anderson's outrage.

"Shut up!" She commanded and everyone fell silent, probably from surprise. She listened with all her might and gasped when she heard the slightest breath stir in the woman's chest. It could have been a breeze to anyone else listening but Kitty could hear the drag of the cold air against the woman's esophagus.

"She's still breathing!" Kitty yelped in horror. John was instantly put into action Kitty couldn't see what he was doing but whatever he was doing she trusted it was the right thing.

"That's impossible! I pronounced her dead myself!" Anderson yelled, trying more desperately to defend his good name than to help the woman at their feet. Kitty was immediately enraged.

"Get your ass in gear and help her!" She barked at him. "You've fucked up enough already! The least you can do is fix your mess!" Kitty turned to John and listened to him count.

"What can I do?" She asked, wanting to help and not feel useless. Then Sherlock was kneeling beside her.

"Continue examining her." He commanded. Kitty pointed her eyes at him dumbfounded.

"What?" She couldn't believe him.

"The moment she's put into the ambulance any evidence will be completely destroyed and her attacker will go free, I need you to examine her." Sherlock urged taking Kitty's hands and pressing them to the woman's body. Kitty felt ill but she forced herself to do as he said. Kitty's hands ran over the woman's clothes. Sequins and cheap polyester scratched at her gloves. Her skirt was short, and pulled up even higher than the woman would have worn it. She'd been out clubbing. The smell of alcohol tickled Kitty's nose, it had been stirred up when John began CPR and Kitty knew the woman must have been heavily intoxicated. Kitty focused on the smell, trying to pin where she had smelled it before. It hit her like a brick, it was a very expensive wine her mother loved to serve at her parties. Kitty frowned, it cost more than $400 a bottle.

"Where is the nearest club?" Kitty asked trying to put together as much information as she could.

"Three blocks away." Sherlock answered. Kitty nodded and moved to feel the woman's heels. She wasn't wearing any shoes. Kitty was baffled by that but she moved quickly onto something else. There was a long rip in the woman's skirt, it was ragged and not part of the design, it had been torn. Kitty frowned and pulled her hands away from the woman. She had pieces of a horrible story and she didn't want to know anymore.

"I'm done." She scrambled to her feet and backed away. She felt like she was going to be sick. Greg patted her shoulder in the way a man would reassure another man.

"Alright now, Sherlock, you've had your fun, what did you two find." Greg demanded as he ushered Kitty away from where John and Anderson were desperately trying to revive the woman. Sherlock followed behind them on his long legs.

"She was a message." Sherlock stated in his haughty voice

"Someone got her drunk, and raped her." Kitty spat in disgust.

"How'd you know she didn't get herself drunk?" Lestrade asked. "Couldn't she just be a victim of opportunity?"

"No." Kitty shook her head. "She couldn't possibly afford the wine she got drunk on."

"That coupled with the fact that only two clubs in London serve that vintage, and the closest is nearly five miles away, we can deduce that she was brought here." Sherlock added. He sounded excited. Kitty wanted to slap him but she withheld the urge.

"She was raped and strung up there for anyone to see." Kitty added, sounding very morbid.

"No, not just anyone." Sherlock corrected. "She was a personal message." Kitty could tell by his tone that he was thinking. "What time was this called in?"

"About an hour ago." Lestrade was trying to follow Sherlock's logic but failed.

"Whoever left this message knew that the person it was meant for would see it before the police." Sherlock mumbled. "I need all of the security footage that was pointed at the mouth of the alley between two am and the moment you were on the scene." Without another word Sherlock grabbed Kitty's hand and led her away from the older detective, and towards the street.

"Sherlock." Kitty wanted him to stop and let her breath for a minute, being tugged along when you're blind is a uniquely terrifying experience and her stomach couldn't handle it. "Sherlock stop!" She shouted at him. Sherlock halted immediately.

"What's the matter?" He asked, sounding confused. Kitty took in a deep breath of chilly air and ripped off the latex gloves that still clung to her fingers.

"I need a minute." Kitty huffed, trying to wrap her head around everything that just happened. "I can handle this, but if you don't let me calm down you're going to have one hell of a pseudo seizure on your hands."

"Will you be able to function?" Sherlock asked, sounding as though he was going to read more into her answer than what she would actually say. Kitty nodded.

"Sorry, this just isn't really my everyday thing." She tried to give him a smile but had to swallow instead. She had to put everything that had happened only a few minutes ago in the back of her mind and not think about it. She had no idea how many times he was going to expect her to tag along for these horrible little adventures, but despite the sick feeling in her stomach, she was exhilarated.

"That's why you stayed, isn't it?" Sherlock sounded a little bit impatient, but Kitty could tell he was curbing it for her sake. Kitty let out a laugh at his logic, which she couldn't dispute, and nodded.

"I never said I wasn't insane." She countered before reaching out for his hand again and allowing him to tug her to the curb and into the first taxi he could find.

Once inside the taxi Sherlock ordered the driver to take them to New Scotland Yard. Kitty settled into the uncomfortable seats that she had grown accustomed to and let out a long sigh.

"Why did you make me do that?" She asked, finally calmed enough to think logically about what had happened.

"I wanted to see if you would work under pressure." Sherlock admitted without even the slightest bit of remorse. "You did not disappoint." Kitty scoffed and put her hand to her forehead. She couldn't even manage to feel surprised.

"Please at least tell me you didn't let that idiot, Anderson, break her neck knowing that she was alive." Kitty wouldn't be able to forgive Sherlock for taking an experiment that far. Sherlock heard the strain in her tone and frowned.

"No, you made one more deduction than I was expecting. I did not realize she was alive when I first examined her." Sherlock's tone sounded very unfamiliar to Kitty, he was in his 'hunting' mode.

"It wasn't your job to be looking for that. Whoever that Anderson guy was, he obviously couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map." Kitty grumbled. If that woman died she would hunt Anderson down and make sure he was sorry for his ignorance.

"You look as though you're considering homicide." Sherlock mumbled under his breath so that the cabbie wouldn't hear him. He sounded on the verge of chuckling. Kitty pointed her eyes at him and fought back a grin.

"Me?" She feigned innocence. "_Never_." This time Sherlock _did_ laugh and Kitty thought it was a beautiful sound. His laugh was deep and genuine. She had to wonder how often he got to laugh like that.

"You're a terrible liar." Sherlock accused once he stopped laughing. Kitty shrugged.

"At least it keeps me straight." She didn't mind looking like a bad liar; it meant that when she really had to lie, no one would expect her to be good at it.

"I think you impressed everyone," Sherlock mumbled, sounding somewhere between jealous and proud.

"Nah," Kitty shook her head and took his hand. "It's probably impossible to impress anyone once they meet you." Kitty fully intended every ounce of ego stroking she'd just given him. She laced her fingers through his and gave his knuckles a kiss before setting their hands in her lap. Sherlock didn't respond, he just smirked and let her keep his hand in hers.

**Author's Note: Ok so I'm going to admit that the idea for the crime scene is not entirely mine. I'm going to give serious props to anybody who can pin which show I got it from though!** Hint: It's not Sherlock

**Black Rose Kali: Your reviews are always so wonderful! I know what you mean about 'Finally' I was seriously itching to get them together! I'm freaking extatic that you still think Sherlock is in character! Call me on it if I break from it! PLEASE!**

**MidnightRaineStorm: I hope this chapter didn't disapoint! Writing their relationship is hard for me to pace so it's awesome that you think it's going on par with where it should be. **

** : I know, I love writing Kitty because she had a 'no bones about it' attitude and doesn't let Sherlock get away with stuff. You're going to have to wait a while before you hear more about her trauma though so hang in there! It will come I promise!**

**And to all the others: Thank you so much for your support! Your reviews follows and favorites are what keep me writing! Love you guys!**

**ZombiexBunnies13**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright, here is one hell of a Chapter 13 for you guys, it may be short but I think you guys will enjoy it. ;D**

**Chapter 13 **

**Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock holed up in a conference room at Scotland yard and watched several hours' worth of security footage. Kitty had stayed awake for an hour or two but once she'd kicked up her heels and set them on the table she was out. Lestrade entered the conference room, glanced at Kitty, and stopped.

"Is she sleeping?" He asked incredulously. "Those bloody chairs are like torture devices, how can she be sleeping?" Sherlock looked over his shoulder at Kitty for the first time in hours and examined her. Kitty's bright red boots contrasted obnoxiously against the faux veneer of the conference table and her coat collar was flipped up, covering her face from the light.

"She didn't sleep much last night." Sherlock answered him with a shrug.

"How'd you know?" Lestrade prodded. "Is it a wrinkle in her trousers or something?" Lestrade was teasing him and Sherlock wasn't fond of it.

"No." He shot the detective a glare and returned to the large screen where silent people hurried through a black and white world. He hated this sort of work.

"How then?" Lestrade wasn't going to let Sherlock drop it. He was curious that the consulting detective wasn't already using the chance to show off. Sherlock sighed and glowered at the screen.

"I've only seen two parties that could be our possible recipient; however neither of them seems to actually see the message." Sherlock leaned forward and pressed the button to speed up the footage.

"Wait a minute. Are you trying to change the subject?" Lestrade sounded incredulous, but also like he had caught wind of something.

"The first is a cyclist who rides past at about 3:45 am, and the second-"

"You're hiding something!" Lestrade blurted out, sounding like a monkey who had figured out the proper answer and gotten his banana. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am, Sherlock." The man in question rolled his eyes and put a hand to his forehead.

"No, you are _exactly_ as stupid as I think you are." Sherlock growled. He looked at Lestrade over his shoulder and watched as a look of epiphany, then shock, then denial, flashed across the older man's face.

"No~." Lestrade's mouth grew into a Cheshire grin that Sherlock wanted to punch off his face.

"What are you on about?" Sherlock turned back to the screen just as Lestrade gave a chuckle.

"You and Kitty?" Lestrade pointed between Sherlock and the sleeping woman who was entirely oblivious to the conversation.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Sherlock was losing his patience. He wanted Lestrade to leave and let him get back to his quiet work.

"Holy hell!" Lestrade was absolutely tickled by his realization. "You're lucky I like Kitty, otherwise this would be the new office gossip in minutes." Sherlock glowered at the pepper haired man and tried to look as intimidating as possible, which he knew was pretty damn intimidating.

"I don't know what you think you've deduced as to my relationship with Miss Hudson, but let me assure you, there is absolutely nothing between us." Sherlock knew Kitty was asleep, so he decided that it was alright to break his side of their agreement. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Lestrade just snorted and turned to leave the room.

"I'm not as much of an idiot as you think I am, Holmes." Lestrade called as he slipped out the door. Sherlock groaned and gripped a hand full of his own curls in one hand. That hadn't gone well. He was rethinking his decision to break their agreement when Kitty's feet slid off of the conference table with a loud, deliberate thud. Sherlock's head shot up and he looked into Kitty's blind, furious eyes. Her face was blank, but the green in her eyes flashed violently. Sherlock immediately regretted his decision.

"Nothing between us, huh?" Kitty's voice was high, somewhere between furry and disbelieving amusement. Sherlock's repertoire of witty comebacks was utterly lacking of responses for this situation. He found himself suddenly and irreparably, ineloquent. Kitty stood and for a moment looked like she was going to storm out of the room, but she stopped and pivoted on her heel, facing Sherlock. "Ok,… I'm going to be _nice_, about this." She didn't sound at all 'nice' as she spoke and Sherlock was instantly suspicious. He didn't like the way her unfocused eyes were boring holes into him.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock finally found his voice. Kitty raised an eyebrow at him in a way that was surprisingly sensual, considering her current state of fury.

"Playing stupid isn't very becoming of a genius, Sherlock." She was still obviously angry but something minute in her tone had changed, and it troubled him. He watched as she reached up and took her braid in her hand and, slowly, released her red curls from their bonds. Sherlock swallowed and tried to collect his thoughts. He should be offended by what she was saying, and he knew that but it was like he couldn't find the mental tools necessary to express even a small amount of his frustration. Kitty slid her hair tie onto her slim wrist and moved her hands to the buttons of her heavy wool coat. Sherlock found himself mesmerized by each button slipping out of its coupling and opening her coat just a bit further.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock was pleased when he actually managed to sound stern. Kitty didn't pause for even a millisecond. She tossed her coat aside and moved towards him. Every movement was astonishingly fluid as she straddled Sherlock and took a rough hold of his shirt collar.

"What am I doing?" Kitty mimed, as she gripped his shirt with both hands and ripped it open, making several of the buttons fly off and clatter to the floor.

"Kitty!" Sherlock growled, angry at her for defiling yet another one of his shirts. He was going to start on a tirade of narcissistic complaints when Kitty pinned him down with a look that was pure threat.

"I'm going to show you exactly what _isn't_ between us." She moved to lower her lips to Sherlock's bare skin and his eyes widened in surprise. Kitty hadn't ever behaved like this before in that moment she was an entirely new animal. "At least according to you." She quipped before nipping at Sherlock's neck and sending his heart rate through the roof and into orbit. Sherlock gripped the arms of his chair and let out a sharp hiss as he suppressed a moan. Kitty tangled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled, making pain shoot through Sherlock's tender scalp. Sherlock had no idea what had gotten into Kitty, but he wasn't entirely sure that he was willing to stop her. Warm lips made a trail down his jaw line to the hollow of his neck. He was just about to let himself relax into her ministrations when she bit down on his neck and scratched sharply across his chest. Sherlock let out a shout of surprise and pain. Kitty slipped off him and he watched, stunned as she licked her lip.

"Try denying me now." She spat before turning on her heel, and strutting out of the room. Sherlock was left with a bright red bite mark, bloody scratches, a shredded shirt, and a lot of explaining to do.

**Kitty's POV**

Kitty had marched out into the general office, slammed the conference room door behind her, and crossed her arms. She hadn't ever done anything like that in her entire life, but damn had it felt good. Sherlock had broken his end of the bargain, and she'd made it more than clear that he wasn't going to get away with it. She took several deep breaths and settled herself.  
Kitty completely squished the small iota of regret that was forming in the back of her mind. The familiar scent of aftershave and rubbing alcohol reached her nose and she plastered a smile on her face.

"Hey, John." She called, she heard an 'oh' sound from her left and John followed right behind it.

"Here you are! You two disappeared on me!" John scolded. "I expect this sort of thing from Sherlock but you?" Kitty could hear the grin in his voice as he teased her.

"Sorry, how's the Jane Doe?" Sherlock's predicament was instantly forgotten as the memory of the half dead woman slipped into the forefront of Kitty's mind.

"She's still in critical condition at St. Bart's. She would have died if it wasn't for you." John was being very kind and it made Kitty smile.

"Whatever you say, Doc." She grinned and stood a bit taller. She felt for once that something she'd done had resulted in a positive outcome.

"Where's Sherlock, has he solved the case yet?" John watched as Kitty became white as a sheet.

"Ummmm." Her brain drew a blank. She couldn't come up with a lie. "About that-"

"What happened?" John's voice had turned into one of concern.

"I may or may not have been a bit more distracting than was appropriate." Kitty wrung her hands together and gave John a nervous grin. John's brow furrowed together as he watched Kitty's demeanor change.

"What do you mean?" He was very confused.

"It's probably better if I just show you." Kitty laughed nervously and turned to open the conference room door. It took her a moment to build up the gumption required to actually turn the knob but to her credit, she did manage. The door swung open and she tugged John inside. It only took a moment before John let out a raucous laugh.

"It isn't funny." Sherlock hissed. Kitty forced herself to stand straight.

"What in the bloody hell did you two do?" John crossed the room and took a look at Sherlock's wounds.

"_She_ marked me." Sherlock's tone was a frightening mixture of indignity and arousal. Kitty chewed her lip before scowling at Sherlock.

"You did this to yourself!" Kitty snapped, she felt brave, but not brave enough to take more than the one step into the room required to shut the door. Sherlock's mood was tangible, and she didn't want to taste any more of it than she absolutely had to. She'd lost the control she had so perfectly held only moments before and reentered the conference room to find it had become Sherlock's battleground.

"I'm afraid to ask." John muttered.

"I'm dating a mad woman." Sherlock grumbled in response. Kitty would have perked her ears if it was possible.

"Wait, so you're dating me now?" Kitty feigned surprise. "I think I missed the memo, because just a minute ago there was nothing between us." John expected Sherlock to explode into a tantrum but to his surprise the stoic man actually grinned.

"I thought you said you were going to be '_nice_'." Sherlock countered in a tone that showed he was more than prepared to spar with her if she chose to go down that road. A long silence strung out before Sherlock continued. "Besides, your little demonstration has made a clear point." Kitty raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"And what's that?" Kitty prodded him onward. She was still pretty pissed at him.

"Denying you is a dangerous course of action." Sherlock admitted, sounding for all the world as though he had won the argument. Kitty rolled her eyes and denied her face the grin it so wanted to display.

"Maybe your skull isn't as thick as I thought it was." Kitty whispered begrudgingly. "and actually I _am_ being nice." Kitty put her hand on her hip. "I let you keep what was left of your shirt didn't I?" John couldn't suppress his laughter.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock grumbled, and tugged at his poor ruined shirt.

"You've finally met a woman who is just as outrageous as you are." John sounded absolutely tickled. "Want to go to lunch, Kitty?" John turned to the young ginger who had stayed near the door with a smile.

"I'd love to." She said with a grin. Sherlock sat up straighter and looked between the two.

"What about me?" He couldn't believe they were discussing lunch when he was clearly in the midst of a dilemma.

"What about you?" Kitty asked, sounding confused. "Did we invite him, John?" Kitty pointed a look at John and knit her brows together.

"No, I don't think we did." John, blessing that he was, had decided to play along. Sherlock stood out of his chair and glared at his friend.

"I'm coming with you." He barked before grabbing his coat, and Kitty's hand, and exiting the conference room. He paid no attention to the fact that it only took seconds for the general office to go quiet. All he could think of was the way Kitty was triumphantly giggling as he strung her along behind him. Sherlock would get her back for this offence, and he would wait until she least expected it.

**Author's Note: I admit, I had more than a little bit of fun writing this chapter. I felt like Sherlock and Kitty had lost a tiny bit of their fire so I thought it would be nice to bring back a teensy bit of volitile behavior. Hope you loved it! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The next several days flashed by quickly. Being with Sherlock meant never standing still for more than a few seconds, and mad dashes through the city. Kitty had to keep up and to be honest it was freaking exhausting. When a morning came where no one rang their doorbell, Kitty was ecstatic. She was way overdo for some 'hunker down and veg out' time.

The boys had a distinct routine. Every morning John would wake up just before 6:00 am and take his shower. During this time Sherlock would take John's computer, check the news, read through John's e-mail, and mutter foul things about whatever John had written in his blog. John would then exit the shower and put on a pot of tea, only to notice Sherlock on his laptop, and then try to smash the idea of privacy through Sherlock's skull. It happened like clockwork every morning.

Kitty padded out of the bedroom during the ritualistic morning spat, wearing a large T-shirt and a pair of Sherlock's boxers. Her clothing hadn't been shipped from the U.S yet, so she was beginning to get desperate.

"It's password protected!" John yelled for probably the umpteenth time.

"Not anymore." Sherlock grumbled from his chair as John yanked the laptop away from him.

"Good morning John." Kitty nodded to the doctor with a sleepy grin and went to the cabinet to pull down a mug. She'd grown very used to having tea in the morning instead of coffee, seeing as it was always available to her.

"Good morning." John managed a kind tone before returning to his argument with Sherlock.

Kitty just tuned them out and poured some hot water into her mug from the kettle. She reached out for the tin of teabags, to find that it had been moved. Kitty frowned and patted the counter in several spots. No luck.

"Where in the hell did the tea tin go?" Kitty asked the two men in the next room.

"I ran out of containers for my thumbs." Sherlock explained without any sign of remorse or knowledge of wrong doing. Kitty grimaced.

"Ok, we're never using _that_ for tea again." Kitty mumbled. "Where did the tea go?"

"You think that I remember?" Sherlock groused. Kitty rolled her eyes and dumped the hot water out of her mug. Apparently she wouldn't be having tea that morning.

"John?" Kitty didn't have to finish her sentence.

"Don't worry, I'll pick some up after my shift at the clinic." John sat in his chair with a heavy sigh.

"Thanks, Doc." Kitty flicked a playful salute in his direction and meandered into the living room, where she promptly flopped onto the sofa. Sherlock was tapping his fingers loudly on the arm of his chair. Kitty did her best to ignore the steady thrumming, but then his foot joined in and began rapping against the floor. "Auditioning to be a drummer?" Kitty asked sarcastically.

"Bored." Sherlock murmured. Kitty knit her brows together.

"What?" She asked more from disbelief than not having heard him.

"Bored!" Sherlock shouted as he hopped up and began pacing. Kitty slapped her palm to her forehead.

"Seriously? You've solved five cases in the past week! _Five!_" Kitty couldn't believe Sherlock. How anyone could possibly be bored after accomplishing so much in a matter of days was beyond her.

"That's passed now, I need _work!_" Sherlock stopped pacing with a huff and crossed his arms. His brain was already rotting. "I need to feel the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through my veins!" Kitty listened as Sherlock growled his frustrations and felt her heart jump a bit. He was sinfully sexy when he talked like that. Sherlock was a big ball of passion, no matter how exhausting he was, and Kitty was attracted to his passion like a bee to honey. She knew, however, that he was only passionate about one thing; his work.

"You really need to find a hobby, Sherlie." Kitty teased.

"No, no he doesn't. Sherlock's version of a _hobby_ is experimenting with hallucinogens!" John corrected. He sounded utterly frustrated, as though it was not the first time that the subject had been broached.

"What?" Kitty sat up and pointed her eyes at John. She hadn't imagined Sherlock as a druggy, but he did have all of the personality traits required to make a good one.

"You're hardly one to judge." Sherlock growled and flopped childishly into his chair. Kitty rolled her eyes.

"Sherlock." John snapped. Sherlock had been very unkind.

"It's ok, John." Kitty sighed and resituated herself on the couch. She pulled her legs to her chest and curled up a bit. His words had hurt her, but not enough for her to bother saying anything. Her addiction was a sensitive subject, but surprisingly she hadn't had much time to think about it since she got out of the hospital. Sherlock frowned and his attention was pinned on Kitty.

"What was that? Why are you doing that?" Sherlock had seen Kitty's body language change. She had said something that was entirely the opposite of what her body language was displaying. Kitty turned her eyes to him and frowned.

"Doing what?" Kitty didn't know what Sherlock was talking about.

"As soon as you spoke to John you hugged your knees to your chest. Why did you do that?" Sherlock's tone had become insistent and intense. Kitty furrowed her brows and shrugged.

"I don't know. It was more comfortable I guess." Kitty's eyes began to flick evasively and she ran a hand through her hair. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"You lied." He contradicted. Sherlock watched as Kitty's mouth fell open in offense. "Why did you lie?" Kitty closed her mouth and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Stop deducing me Sherlock." Kitty snapped. Sherlock had been hurtling towards more deductions but his thoughts squealed to a halt. She'd never had a problem with his deductions. From the very first day she had practically welcomed them. Sherlock watched in confusion as Kitty stood up and, very quietly, walked into the bedroom. He turned to look at John who had pressed his palm to his forehead.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head and sighed.

"Not good at all, Sherlock."

Kitty had thrown herself onto Sherlock's messy bed and rubbed her face with her hands. She hadn't meant to use such a sharp tone but she couldn't handle Sherlock's deductions just then. She was too damn tired. Kitty nuzzled into the covers for a bit, letting their softness calm her down and relieve her stress. She had handled the past few days surprisingly well. She'd been in high stress situations one after the other and she hadn't had a single pseudo seizure. Kitty rolled onto her back, crossed her legs, and tucked her arms behind her head. It wasn't long before she dozed off.

**Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock sat in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin, and his eyes glued to his bedroom door. John had told him to wait, and he had been waiting, but there hadn't even been the slightest sign that Kitty intended to return to the living room. It had been exactly forty-seven minutes since Kitty had left the room in a huff and Sherlock was losing his patience. John had made it clear that he ought to apologize. He'd babbled something about rude behavior, and how Kitty must have been hurt by Sherlock's words, but Sherlock could hardly believe that. Kitty wasn't the sort to throw a tantrum over little things… and he'd never hurt her before. Sherlock ruffled his hair and began to fidget. He couldn't handle the waiting, it was maddening. Sherlock's piercing blue eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Forty-eight minutes had passed. He stood up and stalked across the living room, through the kitchen and pushed open his bedroom door. He paused and frowned. Kitty was sleeping soundly. Sherlock growled and his hands balled into fists. She was bloody _sleeping_! He'd been waiting out there for the better part of an hour so that he could apologize for a slight he hadn't even thought he'd made and she'd had the audacity to sleep!? Sherlock wasn't going to have it.

He took a step back and then pounced on top of Kitty, startling her awake. He had to admit that he was pleased when she yelped.

"So sorry to wake you!" Sherlock yelled in a false, chipper voice. Kitty flailed and grabbed onto his shoulders in a panic.

"What in the hell is wrong with you!?" Kitty didn't even try to control the volume of her voice. He had scared the daylights out of her.

"Me? I've come to apologize!" Sherlock matched her volume and shook her. "Of course you wouldn't have noticed, would you?" Kitty gave Sherlock a look.

"You belong in a loony bin!" Kitty shouted back at him as she tried to squirm away from his hold.

"No you don't! I've waited exactly forty-nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds to have your full attention!" Sherlock's baritone voice was roaring at her. Kitty froze and looked at him, startled.

"Why?" She sounded positively dumbfounded. Sherlock huffed and prepared himself to apologize.

"I'm sorry that my words offended you." Sherlock was dead serious and he watched as pure amusement bubbled up in Kitty's eyes.

"This is how you choose to apologize?" She grinned at him and shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock frowned and observed the way her eyes creased when she smiled at him.

"Did you really wait out there for forty minutes?" Kitty propped herself up on her elbows and entered Sherlock's personal space.

"Forty-nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds." Sherlock corrected in a grumbly tone. Every time Kitty got so close his mind would return to her behavior in the conference room at New Scotland Yard and he would want to maul her. So far however, he had been too busy with cases to make good on his urge. Kitty chuckled and shrugged.

"Such patience." Kitty teased sarcastically. "You decided it would be better to tackle me instead?" Sherlock smirked at her sass. He was slowly becoming more accustomed to her humor. He was beginning to understand that her teasing was meant kindly but it would still ruffle his feathers every now and again.

"I hardly touched you." He defended mildly. Kitty's mood seemed to have improved, and he was pleased that she was no longer cross with him. Sherlock wanted to kiss her the moment one of her ginger eyebrows rose and she smirked at him. Why did that action consume his attention?

"And what a shame too." Kitty gave him a peck on the cheek and Sherlock fought back a grin.

"You're a minx." He accused.

**Kitty's POV**

Kitty let out a laugh of disbelief and smacked his arm.

"Me?" She scoffed. "Look who's on top of who!" She heard Sherlock give a deep chuckle.

"Fair point, however, _I_ don't rip _your_ clothes off in public." Sherlock countered. Kitty couldn't hold back her smile.

"Please, it was just your shirt." Kitty trailed her fingers from his collar bone to his navel. "Besides, you had a lesson to learn." She teased in a sensual tone. Kitty's stomach did flips as she felt his muscles tense beneath his shirt. She was absolutely high off of the fact that she could stir something sexual in such a stoic man. It was thrilling, never mind the fact that she knew she was playing with fire.

"You're coming dangerously close to learning a lesson of your own." Sherlock growled. Kitty's mouth fell open in surprise when he used such a deep threatening tone. Oh the things Sherlock could do to that mouth.

"And what's that?" She breathed; her skin was beginning to feel something that was halfway between tingles and a shiver. Kitty realized it was anticipation.

"That I am not a man to be played with." Sherlock grazed Kitty's jaw with his lips as he spoke and made her gasp. The sound of her arousal made him tense and he paused to decipher her reaction. Kitty's look of surprise had become a look of lust.

"And if I don't learn the first time?" She once again quirked one of her ginger brows and grabbed ahold of his shirt collar. Kitty nearly died when Sherlock gave the sexiest laugh she had ever heard and traced the pads of his fingers down her throat.

"Oh you'll learn." Sherlock's arrogance was oozing from his tone. On most occasions this would have pissed Kitty off, in this moment however, it really turned her on. Kitty yanked on Sherlock's shirt and brought his warm lips hard against hers. She could feel his smirk as she kissed him. Sherlock pulled Kitty into a sitting position and took a hank of her curls in his hands. Something about the way her curls clung to his fingers aroused him, but so did Kitty's reaction. She let out a moan as he tugged and Sherlock took the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips. He wanted to taste her. Kitty squeaked but didn't make him stop. He tasted like strong coffee and peppermint. It was a strange but pleasant feeling as Sherlock stroked her tongue with his; it almost tickled.

Kitty slid her hands down Sherlock's chest and untucked his shirt from his trousers before unbuttoning it. Sherlock was utterly pleased by her attraction to his body. He knew he was a handsome man, and he knew women looked at him, but having Kitty tug his shirt off was an entirely different experience. Her hands slid over his chest as she took every inch of lean muscle to memory, and he watched her shiver in delight. She didn't even need to speak in order to stroke his ego. The way she bit her bottom lip told him everything.

Kitty began pressing kisses to Sherlock's chest and shoulders, nipping at him in between. Sherlock let out a groan of approval and slid his hands up the back of Kitty's shirt, savoring the feel of her smooth feminine curves. Being able to act out even his smallest fantasies stirred an unfamiliar emotion in Sherlock. Kitty arched her back and pressed against him. She loved the feeling of his warm, rough hands touching her. It was both unnerving and wonderful. Sherlock felt his control slip through his fingers as Kitty's breast pressed against his bare chest. Kitty turned pink and gasped when Sherlock yanked her shirt off over her head. She didn't know why she was surprised, or why she felt embarrassed, she was still wearing a bra after all. A long silent moment stretched out. Sherlock sighed as though he'd been dying of thirst and Kitty had just handed him a glass of water.

"Magnificent." He purred before wrapping his arms around Kitty's waist and tilting her back so that he could place hot kisses on the tops of her breasts. Kitty smiled as she let out a surprisingly loud moan. All of her embarrassment was forgotten. The pit of Kitty's stomach was tense and her womanhood was heating up. She'd never felt these sensations before but she knew what they meant.

"Fuck." Kitty groaned as she tangled her fingers in Sherlock's curls and pressed her hips against him.

"Hush now. Don't be naughty." Sherlock teased as he slid his hands down over Kitty's hips and under her bum. Kitty's breath hitched in her throat and she let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Or what?" She sassed between breaths. Sherlock growled and gave her ass a firm slap. Kitty yelped and made a face of surprise. Her ass stung where he'd slapped it but it wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling.

Sherlock smirked at her delicious look of shock. He didn't give her a chance to fully collect her wits before he began kissing her again. This time he was more forceful. Sherlock's hands were everywhere, stroking and caressing her. Kitty could hardly contain the sounds of pleasure that wanted to tear their way out of her. His mouth left a trail of kisses and bites from her collar bone, between her breasts and down the waistline of the pair of his boxers which she had commandeered. It seemed to Kitty that every place his lips touched left her with more and more tingles. Sherlock grabbed Kitty's knees and pried them apart with only a small amount of coaxing. As his hands slid up the insides of her thighs Sherlock watched Kitty quiver. Kitty felt like she was going to pass out if he didn't stop playing with her.

"Sh-sherlock!" Kitty snapped, trying to sound stern. She didn't want to be teased anymore.

"Yes, love?" Sherlock purred devilishly before suckling on the tender flesh of her inner thigh. Kitty felt a loud moan bubble up from her chest and she gripped his hair. He was playing with her and she could hardly stand it. She was completely consumed by lust and she wanted him terribly.

"Stop teasing me!" Kitty growled and yanked on Sherlock's hair. He hissed at the pain that ran through his scalp. With a snarl he slapped Kitty's ass again and dragged her across the bed until her body was beneath his again.

"You'll have to ask nicely." His tone was biting and the authority of it sent delightful chills down Kitty's spine. She had no idea she'd be into that sort of thing, but she most definitely was aroused by his commanding tone. In a moment of clarity a little lightbulb went off in Kitty's head. It was _her_ turn to surprise _him_.

"Oh, Sherlock, _please_!" She begged in a low sultry tone. Kitty felt it the instant he want slack. Her plan to catch him off guard had worked. The next part, however, was going to take some reckless abandon. Kitty ghosted her fingertips down his bare chest and hooked her fingers under the waistline of his trousers. "Don't you _want_ to fuck me?" She whispered, in the sexiest voice she could manage. For moment she thought she'd broken him, but just as he was regaining the ability to respond, his phone rang. Sherlock was off Kitty in an instant and had answered his phone in the same moment.

"Holmes." Sherlock's tone sounded pristine, as though absolutely nothing had just happened. Kitty shot up and let her mouth fall open in offence. "I'm on my way." Sherlock hung up the phone and scooped his discarded shirt off the floor.

"You can't be serious." Kitty blurted out in disbelief.

"Duty calls." He deadpanned. Kitty wanted to beat his head in.

"You- I-… Jesus." She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and shook her head. Sherlock Holmes was a robot. There was absolutely no other explanation she could think of for his ability to just lasso his emotions and take five steps back from what had just occurred only seconds ago. Without any further fuss Sherlock left the room and was out the door, grabbing his favorite scarf and coat as he went.

"What am I going to do with you!?" Kitty yelled at the empty flat.

**Authors Note: **Ok, now don't anybody hate me for that scene! It was just as hard to write as it was for you to read! Let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Kitty didn't take Sherlock's disappearance as calmly as the last. In fact her current reaction was more irate, and far less understanding. Kitty sat defiantly in Sherlock's chair, legs crossed, and hair a mess. She'd spent a good half hour screaming expletives into the pillows in the bedroom. Once that had tired her out, she'd resigned herself to occupying Sherlock's vacant throne and glaring the fear of god into the floor. Kitty had tried and tried to wrap her head around it. Sherlock had left her high and dry! She brought her fingers to her mouth and gnawed absently on her nails. Old habits die hard.

The sound of the front door opening and closing yanked Kitty out of her deep contemplation. Fast light steps announced Sherlock's return and Kitty's temper, which had momentarily ebbed, flared up as he strolled through the door.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Kitty demanded. Sherlock stopped in his tracks and looked at the angry woman poised in his chair.

"I've been-" He began to explain, but Kitty held up her hand, effectively cutting him off.

"You know what, I don't care. I'm getting really fucking sick of your disappearing acts." Kitty crossed her arms and pointed a glare in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I see now that it may have been better to prepare you." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Sherlock flicked his wrist and checked his watch. Kitty furrowed her brow at the sound and was suddenly very suspicious. She narrowed her eyes and her mouth fell a bit askew.

"Prepare me for what?" Kitty could not keep the unease from her voice.

"In approximately fifty-seven seconds we will be having some very unwelcome visitors." Sherlock pulled off his coat and then paused to reexamine Kitty. "Why aren't you dressed? You're always dressed by noon." Kitty was struck dumb. She tried and failed to find the words to express her outrage.

"Who?" Kitty finally asked incredulously. The sound of the front door creaking open, and being shut once more, rattled in Kitty's ears.

"Erm… My parents." Sherlock answered absently as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed the tea kettle. Almost instantaneously Kitty leapt out of his chair and scrambled towards the bedroom in a mad dash. Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the slew of oaths that flew out of her mouth when she stubbed her toe and turned to see her slam the door behind her.

By the time Kitty had made her reappearance Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were settled on Sherlock's couch prattling over the tea that Sherlock had set before them. He hadn't gone to the trouble of producing the quality china but he had, at the very least, heated water for them. It was an improvement from their last visit. Sherlock sat in his chair and did not even pretend to acknowledge their words as he watched his bedroom door. It had occurred to him that Kitty might simply not rejoin him and leave him to the horrid fate of entertaining his parents alone.

"Where is this lady friend of yours, Sherlock? You said we would be meeting her." Mrs. Holmes set down her tea cup as she addressed her youngest son and watched as he shot her a spiteful glare. As he moved to answer the bedroom door opened and Kitty crept out. Sherlock's head whipped around and, against his own will, he smiled at the sight of her. She hadn't abandoned him to the parentals.

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes looked at each other in confusion and leaned forward over the coffee table to see what on earth had made their son smile. Kitty timidly stepped out of the kitchen and waved to the room. She had no idea where anyone was sitting. Sherlock noted the way her fist clenched and realized that she was quite clearly terrified. She had frantically brushed her hair, leaving it in a frizzy but beautiful sweep of curls that came over her shoulder. The faintest smear of toothpaste at the corner of her mouth told him that she had brushed her teeth without water only moments before.

"Erm, Sherlock?" She breathed as she inched another step into the room.

"Here." He thrummed and stretched one of his long arms in her direction. Kitty visibly relaxed and nodded. She did not go to him and Sherlock was forced to let his arm drop awkwardly; sign number one that she was still very displeased with him. "Mum, Dad, this is Katarina Hudson."

Sherlock's parent's sat aghast for a moment before his mother spoke.

"She's real!" Mrs. Holmes laughed, in an excited way. Sherlock whipped his icy gaze to his mother, offended.

"Of course she's real!" He snapped.

"Sherlock." Kitty chided as she moved to sit in John's chair. Sherlock noted that she did not tuck her legs underneath herself as she usually would. Instead she sat tall on the edge of the seat and daintily crossed her legs at the ankles.

"I'm sorry, Poppet, it's just that you've never had a girlfriend!" Mrs. Holmes proclaimed. Kitty grinned faintly and tilted her head in interest.

"I've told you not to call me that." Sherlock growled.

"It really is a pleasure to meet you." Kitty interjected, breaking the tension. "Pardon if I don't shake." Kitty gestured to her eyes and smiled awkwardly.

"It's quite alright." Mr. Holmes reassured kindly. Kitty swallowed hard and hoped the nerves in her stomach would go away. She was too nervous to even remember why she was mad at Sherlock.

A long silence stretched out before Mrs. Holmes cleared her throat and took another sip of her tea. "So, Mycroft told us that you two were quite serious." Mrs. Holmes offered the first topic of conversation and already Kitty could tell that this visit was going to be very uncomfortable. _She_ wouldn't even call her and Sherlock's relationship serious.

"We're dating." Kitty tried to clarify. Come to think of it they were hardly dating. They were essentially just roommates that felt each other up every now and again, but she couldn't tell his mother that. Kitty could practically hear Sherlock's eyes roll around in their sockets. That most likely was not the answer that he would have given. In fact Sherlock would have gone into excruciating detail as to the terms of their pseudo-monogamous relationship if Kitty had not beaten him to the punch.

Sherlock's nerves were being ruined by Kitty's obvious distress. He reached over and took one of her hands in his own so that she would stop fiddling with them. His grip abruptly stopped Kitty's annoying fidgeting. His parents of course read it as sentiment.

"I never imagined our sweet boy would find someone." Mrs. Holmes murmured to her husband and he nodded in a cheery response. Sherlock wanted to gag. Kitty could feel Sherlock's displeasure as though she was tapped into his subconscious.

"Sherlock has been taking me on cases recently." Kitty blurted out the first thing she could think of in order to change the subject.

"Oh really, Sherlock, that's no place for a date!" Mr. Holmes chided.

"They aren't dates!" Sherlock hissed. "She is acting as a colleague!"

"What _do_ you do for dates then?" Mrs. Holmes chimed, hopeful that her son may indeed possess an ounce of chivalry. Sherlock, for once, was without a witty reply. Kitty and his parents waited for his response. The prolonged silence told Kitty that Sherlock was ill prepared to answer so she stumbled into a response.

"He takes me out to eat." Kitty figured that she wasn't really lying, although Sherlock wouldn't call their meals at Angelo's dates. Either way she hoped it would appease his parents. Finding that Kitty was more forthcoming than her son about the details, Mrs. Holmes immediately turned her line of questioning to the young woman who was very delicately holding her son's hand.

"Does he treat you well?" Mrs. Holmes implored in a very concerned tone. Sherlock covered his face with his free hand in order to shield himself from the sheer discomfort of the situation. Kitty struggled for a moment with an answer. Did he? Sherlock uncovered his face and glowered at Kitty when she did not respond. He wanted her to say that he did, but from the look on her face she was not prepared to do so. Sherlock was on the verge of exploding and simply tossing his parent's out on their ear when Kitty finally found her answer.

"He is an acquired taste." Kitty gave a small secretive grin and patted Sherlock's hand. "But he takes very good care of me." Sherlock relaxed and subconsciously nodded; At least Kitty had possessed the good graces to lie. Sherlock watched as Kitty donned an unfamiliar smile that made him want to kiss her. She looked genuinely happy. He made a note to investigate the cause of that smile at a later date.

Sherlock eyed his parents as they shared a look he did not understand. They stood in unison, the way couples often do after so many years of successful matrimony and clasped hands.

"Well it was splendid meeting you, dear, but I'm afraid we've promised Mycroft that we'd meet him for a matinee of Les Mis." Mr. Holmes offered their apologies and after a very rushed set of goodbyes Sherlock slammed the door on his parents.

"That was tedious." Sherlock grumbled before throwing himself onto the couch in a huff. He observed Kitty as she ran her hands through her hair and pressed them against her temples.

"You're going to be the death of me." Kitty pointed a finger in Sherlock's direction accusingly. "And you owe me _big time_ for not hanging you out to dry." Sherlock couldn't withhold a rueful smirk.

"Come here." Sherlock demanded, reaching a hand in her direction. Kitty momentarily contemplated denying his request, but she needed a good dose of his calming effect ASAP. She shuffled over to the sofa and was pleased to be pulled down onto a very comfortable Sherlock.

"I'm getting used to this." She mumbled as she unabashedly nestled into him. Sherlock ignored the pleasure he felt at her closeness and sighed.

"You're going to ruin my reputation." Sherlock mumbled in aggravation. Kitty just smiled and shrugged.

"I think our little show at the Yard already did that." Kitty mused as she placed a begrudging kiss on his cheek. She was still mad at him, but she didn't have the heart to really be angry. Despite how poorly executed the introduction had been and how little Sherlock probably thought of it, he had allowed her to meet his parents. Something told Kitty that today was a bit of an occasion for Sherlock and had been far more stress inducing than he had let on.

"I thought I was 'in the dog house'." Sherlock ran a hand through Kitty's curls and shut his eyes.

"Consider this your 'get out of jail free card'." Kitty tried to sound stern but the deep chuckle that bubbled up from the man beneath her broke her resolve.

Kitty didn't know where in the hell she and Sherlock were headed with their 'agreement', but she decided that she was simply going to enjoy it while it lasted.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"We've been summoned." Sherlock announced, strolling through the bedroom door. Kitty was draped across his bed with a book in her hands. He could see the small bumps and dashes of brail on the thick pages. It was a copy of Bleak House. Sherlock grimaced at her atrocious choice of reading.

"We?" Kitty questioned.

"Yes, _we_." Sherlock repeated as he opened the closet and began looking for a fresh shirt. The one he was wearing had been wrinkled by Kitty's nuzzling and cuddling on the sofa. Kitty rolled her eyes and smiled.

"What's the case?" She asked as she sat up and tossed her book down on the bed.

"A prominent railway company has had some very precious cargo stolen." Sherlock selected a purple button up and quickly switched shirts.

"What was the cargo?" Kitty continued, listening to Sherlock move quietly and deliberately. She loved how silently he moved. He wasn't loud and distracting.

"Gold Bullion." Sherlock answered with an audible smirk. Kitty raised her eyebrows and stood up once she heard Sherlock lean the slightest bit towards the door. It was seamless how well she read his cues, and Sherlock was growing used to her ability to read his actions and anticipate them.

"What made you take the case?" Kitty asked as she followed Sherlock out of the bedroom.

"According to Lestrade it was a perfect crime." Sherlock spoke with no small amount of amusement as he grabbed Kitty's coat and held it out for her; Kitty's surprise at the gesture made Sherlock grin. He did not like being predictable. Kitty slid her arms into the coat and Sherlock gently tugged her long hair out from under the collar. Kitty shivered and took a step away. After that morning she was hesitant to let Sherlock stir a reaction in her.

"Since when do you care what Greg thinks about a case?" Kitty countered.

"Who is Greg?" Sherlock pulled on his own coat and grabbed his scarf off of the hook behind the door. Kitty slapped her palm to her forehead and shook her head at how thick Sherlock could be.

"Lestrade." She clarified.

"Oh, I don't. I simply thought it was an amusing assertion to make."

"You know, sometimes I forget that you're not a very nice person." Kitty opened the door and led the way down.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock looked down his nose at Kitty with an inquisitive brow raised.

"You're the genius, you figure it out." Kitty replied cheekily as she stepped out the front door.

Sherlock grinned and walked a bit more haughtily. Few people called him anything other than a freak, and he reveled in the scant praise that anyone but himself bestowed upon him.

"Stop that." Kitty demanded with a knowing smirk.

"What?" Sherlock looked down at her from the corner of his blue eyes.

"Walking like a peacock." Kitty gave a little nod in his direction to clarify her meaning and tossed her hair.

"I do not walk like a peacock." Sherlock grumbled under his breath. Despite his displeasure with her statement, he grinned at the little woman who was hypocritically strutting down the sidewalk.

Sherlock hailed a taxi and opened the door for Kitty. She paused, a baffled look on her face.

"You're being gentlemanly." She accused suspicion written clearly across her features.

"Consider it an apology." Sherlock remarked flippantly. Kitty rolled her eyes and got into the car.

"You don't apologize." Kitty buckled herself in and waited for the door to shut but Sherlock bent down and kissed her cheek instead. It was an awkward but alarmingly sweet gesture.

"I apologized to you just this morning." He shut the door and walked around the Taxi before getting in on the opposite side. "New Scotland Yard." Sherlock commanded brusquely.

"That doesn't technically count." Kitty ran a hand through her hair and began searching her person for a hair tie.

"It's better down." Sherlock announced, "Why exactly did it not count." He bounced from one topic to the next without any segue.

"I like it up," Kitty checked her pockets and came up empty. "and it doesn't count because you proceeded to fuck up half way through the apology."

"I like it down." Sherlock repeated more firmly. "I specifically recall following the meaningless protocol of a proper apology." He narrowed his eyes at Kitty and was curious as to what exactly he had '_fucked up'._

"Exhibit number one why you're a sociopath. The _protocol_ is supremely important, Sir. You have a lot to learn." Kitty sighed and felt like being a bit contrary. "Why does it matter how you like my hair?" Sherlock recoiled at her question and looked at the sassy American next to him. She looked perfectly pleased with herself. Pressing his lips into a thin line Sherlock crossed his arms and looked out the window. She had a good point. Why _did_ it matter?

"You look like a librarian when your hair is up." Sherlock groused. He adjusted his posture and sat taller.

"Don't most men like that sort of thing? Naughty librarians and whatnot?" Kitty had expected Sherlock to be thrown off by her straightforward mention of sensual role play but he was not.

"You are hardly fit to be a librarian; you don't have the proper credentials or a suitable wardrobe." Sherlock answered flippantly. It had gone completely over his head. Kitty chuckled and shook her head; for a genius he certainly could be naïve.

Kitty could always tell when they were close to their destination because Sherlock would stiffen and become very solemn. She called it "putting on his game face" Sherlock would probably have called it something like "priming the engine". Kitty listened to his calm even breathing and smiled at how it bellied the force of passion that he held, all bottled up inside of himself.

Kitty and Sherlock found Detective Lestrade rushing through the General Office towards one of the conference rooms.

"Why didn't we meet at the scene of the crime?" Sherlock immediately dove in with a question. He had reached his full stride and Kitty was being tugged along behind him.

"Mr. Mason, the owner of the railway line, insisted that he meet you and see if you were up to the task." Lestrade reluctantly gave the honest answer. Sherlock scoffed and stood taller. "For once I agree with you." Lestrade added in response to Sherlock's obvious displeasure. "He's been prancing about my office like he owns the place." Kitty frowned and decided that she already did not much care for the illustrious Mr. Mason.

Sherlock led on, more than willing to showcase his skills.

As soon as they entered the conference the hushed whisper of lawyers went silent. Sherlock clapped eyes on the young man at the head of the table and immediately went to work. His black hair was cropped short in the way of the U.S Military, the watch on his wrist, which was set five hours too early, soundly showed that he was an American. Sherlock did not miss the premature grey dusted through the man's hair. The man was fastidiously dressed in a suit which, from its hand tailored Italian fit, cost more than Sherlock's monthly rent, however the shoulders were cut far too broad for the man who wore it. The stub of a plane ticket hung out of the breast pocket of the man's suit and clearly showed that he had flown from Dollis Airport in Washington D.C, first class. At this point Sherlock snorted.

"My dear Inspector, you have been taken for a fool." Sherlock announced, an heir of triumph in his tone. Kitty smirked and rolled her blind eyes. "This man is not Robert Mason."

"What?" Lestrade blurted out, sounding somewhere between outrage and disbelief.

"Robert Mason is the man directly to his left." Sherlock explained and sent a chilly look of disapproval to the man. "I do not enjoy having my time wasted." Sherlock snapped, making his displeasure utterly clear. The man in question was dressed in a nondescript, black suit and had fair hair that was combed and neatly gelled back away from his face. He was larger in build than his imposter and despite his obvious physical build had never been in the armed forces.

"Damn, what gave it away?" The man asked as he stood and gave Sherlock the sort of charming smile that, in the wrong hands, could be devastating to the female gender. Sherlock was on the verge of answering when he noticed that Kitty's hold on his hand had become vice like. He looked down at her and noticed that she had become flushed and her blind eyes were wide with surprise.

"Miss Hudson, are you unwell?" Sherlock asked, her sudden change of demeanor was mildly alarming to him.

"Sort of like hearing a ghost I guess." Robert Mason proclaimed lightheartedly. "How have you been, Kitty-Cat?" He stepped away from the table and approached Kitty, who was silently panicking. Sherlock found himself suddenly and intensely interested in her reaction to this man. Lestrade watched with growing interest as the three stood in a painful silence.

"I've been alright I guess." Kitty finally answered. "How is you _wife?"_ There was no small amount of venom in her tone, but Sherlock could not fathom why.

"I'm sorry to say that I don't know. Vanessa and I separated almost a year ago." Robert spoke with a level of remorse that was sorely lacking in authenticity.

"Pity." Katarina snapped. Sherlock recognized the tempered fury that was roiling under Kitty's beautiful, solemn exterior. "Sherlock, would you please continue." Kitty gave an unfamiliar nod in Sherlock's direction and he watched as she emotionally curled in on herself. Sherlock had only seen such a wall when Moriarty had held her before him and tortured her. Once more she looked like a lifeless doll that held no resemblance to the exuberant woman he knew and admired. Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back and turned his attention to the man before him. His interest had in an instant become a vendetta.


	17. Chapter 17

"Tell me about the cargo, Mr. Mason." Sherlock watched as the other man's eyes reluctantly slid off of Kitty and met his.

"It was a shipment of British sealed gold bullion bound for the bank of England. The shipment was valued at three billion pounds." Mr. Mason, showed his first sign of worry. His brows knit together a bit and he put his hands on his hips as if to oppose the problem's existence

"From where did the shipment originate?" Sherlock fired off his next question immediately after the first was answered.

"Didn't Detective Lestrade already give you all of this information?" Mr. Mason replied with no small amount of aggravation.

"I prefer to get my information first hand." Sherlock's tone was cold. Kitty stood by his side, like a pillar of stone, and though he was certain her unease had nothing to do with the case he was bound and determined to discover the cause of it. Mr. Mason frowned but reluctantly nodded his assent; not that Sherlock needed it.

"How many men on the guard detail?"

"Seven for the loading, and one man in the car during transport." Mr. Mason rattled off the answer as though he'd said it a thousand times. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the man and his cool frown deepened.

"You were charged with safely transporting our nation's gold and you had only one guard during the transport?" The implication in Sherlock's tone was scalding. Mr. Mason glared at him.

"The car has a top of the line security system, and steel reinforced doors that were made to envy the very vault of England! He was no more than a precautionary measure. The only people who knew the code to open the doors are my wife and myself." Mr. Mason had thundered through his explanation and then gone green about the gills as soon as he implicated his wife. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he looked down on Mr. Mason; _interesting_. "Oh God."

"Robert I advise you not to say anything else." A prestigious looking American lawyer popped up from the conference table.

"He's an Idiot, keep talking." Sherlock spouted without hesitation.

"Excuse me?" The lawyer snapped. Sherlock leveled him with a well-aimed glare and the man straightened his tie and sat down.

"I should have you in the courtroom." Mr. Mason mused nervously running a hand through his platinum hair.

"Much too tedious, and _far_ below my potential." Sherlock murmured. "I would like to see the scene now." Sherlock turned on his heal and exited the room, Lestrade on his heels, however he was too deep into the case to realize that he had forgotten something.

_Did he just forget me!?_ Kitty thought as she stood in the conference room. She heard men begin to murmur and the shuffle of papers as the men at the conference table prepared to disperse. The only voice she didn't hear was Robert's and she knew what that meant. He was watching her. None of the other men were probably even aware that she was there, but Robert, was watching. Kitty felt like there was a cold fist squeezing her ribs as she breathed. She actually had to focus on it.

"You're boyfriend seems nice." Robert mentioned in a quiet almost ashamed way. Kitty felt the ire rise in her blood. _Good. He __**should**__ be ashamed._ She though in a quiet rage.

"He is." She snapped back. "He doesn't make a habit of leaving me for more… seemly, women." Kitty didn't hold anything back, she didn't care. "You should be glad." Her tone was biting. "I finally found someone of my own **caliber**." Kitty was quoting a conversation from over three years ago verbatim.

_"__Come on Kitty-Kat, just try to understand!" Robert was much younger, fresh out of college, trust fund in toe, and he was systematically tearing Katarina's heart from her chest. Kitty stood hands gripping her hair, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Vanessa is what my parents want! I can't say no to them!"_

_"__Why?" Kitty breathed pitifully. "Your mother loves me." She wasn't prepared for the silence. "Why!?" She urged. _

_"__They don't think that you're good for the family's image." Robert pushed the words out as quickly as he could, like they were coals in his mouth._

_"__What?" Kitty felt her stomach fall into her feet and waivered. She could feel it coming. One hell of a seizure was in the wings but she fought it back. She wouldn't let herself. "But I cleaned up! Just for you! I cleaned up and I've been going to NA! I've been doing it all for you!" Her breath was coming fast now, too fast._

_"__That's not it." Robert mumbled. Kitty's blind eyes widened and she took a shaky breath._

_"__Then what?" Another long silence stretched out with no reply. "M-maybe I can fix it! I can change! Whatever they need me to be I'll be it!" Kitty was filled with the desperation of someone who thinks they've seen the light at the end of the tunnel._

_"__You can't!" Robert finally yelled, unable to handle her any longer. As many before Kitty have learned; the light was not the end, but a train. "You're blind damn it! You're broken! You can't change that." Robert glared at Kitty, angry at her for having made this so hard on him. Kitty simply froze. She didn't breathe, she didn't blink, just froze. Her wide, blind eyes showed such pained defeat that it could have turned the coldest heart to tears. "I can't be seen with an invalid for a wife! You'd only hold me back! I need a partner not a burden!" His father's words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Then, Robert realized the gravity of his lack of control. "I mean… you should find someone who can accept you just as you are… Who's looking for someone… like you." The horrid silence stretched for eons. "Someone of your caliber." Robert was digging his grave with three shovels. He watched helplessly as Kitty's face became completely devoid of emotion._

_"__You're right." She said calmly. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about it from __**your**__ perspective." She straightened up and her blind eyes pinned themselves to his chest. "How could I have been so __**selfish**__ as to think that you would really marry me?" Kitty struggled to remove her engagement ring with shaking hands, but managed in the end. Robert watched awkwardly as she held out her hand and made him take the ring from her cold, clammy palm._

_They found her two days later half dead from an overdose in some crummy hotel._


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Sherlock made it the whole way to the crime scene before he ever realized that Kitty was not with him.

"I find it interesting that he so unwittingly incriminated his wife, or soon to be ex-wife rather. He wasn't wearing a ring which tells me the 'separation' is permanent. From your reaction earlier I would think you'd find that to be good news." Lestrade stood behind Sherlock as he bent over the seat where the guard had been stationed. Lestrade raised a graying eyebrow and looked around.

"Me?" He asked confused. Sherlock suddenly stood ramrod straight and turned to look at him awkwardly.

"Of course not. I was speaking to Miss. Hudson." Sherlock announced as though it were the plainest thing in the world. He did not even bother to look about for her. Lestrade looked at him incredulously wondering how someone so brilliant could be so daft and crossed his arms.

"You do know you left her back at the precinct?" Lestrade questioned him blatantly certain that Sherlock hadn't known. Sherlock blinked for a moment and then his piercing blue eyes widened in a nearly imperceptible moment of panic. They darted about the train car and then landed on Lestrade with a vengeance.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner!" Sherlock snapped accusingly.

Lestrade held up his hands in innocence and shook his head, "It's not my job to keep you off the couch." He defended. "You're the one who forgot your own bloody girlfriend." Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he stalked past Lestrade and out the door, onto the platform.

"She isn't my girlfriend!" Sherlock growled through grit teeth.

Lestrade scoffed outright, "Oh I think we're a bit past that, Mate." Just as Sherlock was about to hail a cab one pulled up and Kitty stepped out looking very, very displeased. Sherlock and Lestrade both stopped dead at the sight of her.

"Forget the couch, you're in for the dog house." Lestrade muttered under his breath as he found somewhere, anywhere in fact, else to be. Important police matters to attend to of course.

Sherlock was in the midst of mentally debating whether or not to announce himself when Kitty's eyes snapped to attention and she began to sniff daintily and listen. She'd caught his scent. He didn't call her his Sniffer Dog for nothing. She followed her nose and marched right up to him.

"You forgot me." She stated in a livid rush. Sherlock fumbled for a moment to respond.

"I did." He agreed dumbly. Perhaps just admitting to it would get him out of trouble.

"In that room… with that waist of flesh called a man!" Kitty stomped her foot and turned bright red as her blood rushed to her face and she became more upset. Sherlock was all together confused. It wasn't like Kitty to be so utterly harsh in her description of people and she was a great deal more upset than he had expected.

"What man?" He asked, trying to piece together what had caused his girlfriend to become a tempest.

"Mason!" She shrieked as though the name was acid on her tongue. Sherlock frowned and remembered the instantaneous reaction she'd had to Mason's voice. Sherlock frowned and looked behind him. He had already gotten all he could from the scene and was fairly certain he knew what had transpired, however, Kitty was presenting him with an even more tantalizing mystery that he desperately wanted to solve.

"Did he hurt you?" Sherlock asked sounding momentarily dangerous. If Mason had dared, Sherlock would think of the worst torture he knew of and make sure no one ever found the remains. Kitty's eyes softened and then she looked down almost ashamed.

"Not physically." Her answer was cryptic and it pushed Sherlock to wonder how in fact he had offended her so greatly to cause her to behave so unlike herself.

"I am sorry for forgetting you." Sherlock announced, not sure what else to say. He knew an apology would make her feel better so he produced one. Kitty's shoulders sank and she appeared utterly deflated.

"It's alright… I guess I'm just forgettable." Kitty offered glumly. Sherlock's brows knit together as he recognized the very unfamiliar trait of a negative self-image in Kitty.

"Would you like to discuss it?" Sherlock offered awkwardly. He distinctly remembered John informing him that women greatly enjoyed talking about their feelings. If Sherlock could settle Kitty and get information at the same time it would be simply two birds one stone.

"Yeah." She whimpered, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Sherlock felt his stomach drop and began to panic. Would she really cry in public like this? Should he comfort her? How would he do that? Did he want to? Of course he wanted to, but could he do it without being ridiculed? As all of these questions were racing through Sherlock's head Kitty stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. Here pale face nuzzled into his chest and she began to shake. Sherlock awkwardly put his arms around her and waited. He didn't know why she was crying or what he could do about it. The thought of not knowing put his teeth on edge.

"Lets get you home." He suggested as he led Kitty towards the street, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. Kitty nodded and gave a small sob. Sherlock waived down the third Taxi for the day and helped Kitty in. He would figure out what Mason had done, and make him pay dearly for causing Kitty such discomfort.

Once they were in the Taxi Sherlock felt much more comfortable holding Kitty and was much more at ease with the situation. No one but the Taxi driver was there to witness a moment of reserved tenderness from the great Sherlock Holmes. He gently petted Kitty's hair and held her as she shook and cried. Kitty was glad that he was being so cooperative with her whirlwind of moods. She couldn't have handled him brushing her off. She didn't know why she was crying. She was a grown woman and so many years had passed since Robert Mason had left her for a 5'9 super model who weighed 120 soaking wet. Why did it still hurt? Kitty listened to the pounding of Sherlock's heart and knew that dealing with her breakdown was playing hell with his nerves, but silently thanked him for not going iceberg on her when she needed him.

"I gather that you had intimate relations with this man." Sherlock began once Kitty's sobbing had subsided. He waited until he felt a faint nod into his chest. Sherlock frowned and shifted ever so slightly. Of course Kitty had been with other men, but the thought rankled him despite all logic.

"I was engaged to him." Kitty clarified weakly. Sherlock nodded curtly and looked out the window.

"You are obviously no longer engaged to him." Sherlock proceeded in his strange way by stating something that was obviously supposed to be a question. How should she answer that? He would know if she was lying but… the truth was just so painful that saying it aloud was like laying on a bed of broken glass, or swallowing hot coals.

"He left me for another woman because his parents… they thought my blindness would make me a burden." It took a lot for Kitty to force the words out. She had never told anyone what had really happened between Robert and her. She just told people that it hadn't worked out and shockingly everyone was content to leave it at that. She felt Sherlock tense and frowned slightly. "I'm not a burden am I?" She asked, feeling utterly insecure.

"Of course not." Sherlock brushed the idea aside as though it were an annoying fly. "You're moderately intelligent and better company than most anyone I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Kitty smiled at the half complement. "You also seem to be more than adequate at dealing with my reportedly absurd mannerisms." He added reluctantly. Kitty couldn't help but letting her small smile become a grin. Sherlock, as much as he was mucking it up, was well and truly trying to make her feel better.

"He had the audacity to ask me out on a date." She murmured. Sherlock went stiff.

"Did you agree to go?" He asked, sounding not at all trusting.

"Of course not, Sherlock. First off, he's an ass hat and secondly, I'm with you. It wouldn't be right." Sherlock let out a relieved sigh and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"Thank you."

Kitty felt small butterflies rise in her stomach and wondered why she had felt sad at all. Lifting her head she placed a soft kiss on the corner of Sherlock's jaw.

"How could I go back to that now that I know what good is?" Sherlock shruged and did not respond.

"Now I just have to tell Lestrade that he stole his own Cargo and he will go to prison for life." Sherlock spouted out rather tactlessly. Kitty shot up and pointed her eyes at him incredulously.

"What!?" She asked, not bothering to hide her shock. Sherlock raised his dark brows in surprised and smiled. He had been able to distract her from her sorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

_How in the hell did he talk me into this?_ Kitty had been trying to answer that question all night. Somehow with his satanically sexy voice and unbeatable logic Sherlock fucking  
Holmes had talked her into meeting Mason for dinner.

"He's going to pay for this." Kitty grumbled in frustration. Mycroft had dressed her to the nines. She'd never been swarmed by so many stylists before and the entire experience had played hell with her nerves. _Still it was fun to hear Sherlock and Mycroft bicker over what dress I should wear._

"_She is __**not**_ _going to wear that." Sherlock rumbled dangerously._

"_Whyever not?" Mycroft chimed as innocently as was possible. "You want her to beguile him, don't you?" Kitty grimaced at the thought._

"_Don't use that word." Sherlock had bridged his fingers under his chin and was pouting. He'd only intended to recruit Mycroft for the funds. He should have known better._

"_What word, Brother mine?" Mycroft asked absently as he handed Kitty a blue cocktail dress with a low open back and an uncharacteristically short skirt._

"_You know very well which-..." Sherlock sounded furious but choked down his anger. This was his idea after all, and having Kitty beguile Mason was a large part of the plan, but he half hated himself for even thinking of it. Kitty stood from the dining chair that had been removed from the kitchen and placed in the living room. _

"_I'll be fine, Sherlie. I can deal with him for one dinner." Kitty patted Sherlock's leg reassuringly as she passed him and gave him a small smile that even he could tell was uncertain._

"I don't like this." John's voice sounded in Kitty's ear and she almost jumped. Her hand nearly reached for the earpiece that was currently driving her nuts but she caught herself and made it look like she was fixing her hair.

"And you think that I do?" Sherlock growled. His mood had only worsened as the night had continued and it had reached the peak of pissyness now that Mason was officially ten minutes late. Kitty shook her head at the two voices that were currently bickering in her ears. She knew that they were set up across the street with Lestrade in some incognito vehicle or something. Or at least that was what John had explained.

Kitty mapped out the table top for probably the fifth time, marking every item on it in her mind. She refused to fumble about like an idiot. She would look as natural as possible. Showing Mason that he had not broken her, that she had thrived even after he had torn her heart to shreds, would be a triumph. Kitty's hands stopped moving about the table and hovered over the tablecloth until they curled into fists. Mason **had** broken her… She'd spent months going in and out of rehab because of that bastard... Months trying to find the combination of duct tape and glue that would hold her shabby little heart together long enough for her to struggle through the day. Her heart began to race and her hands trembled. She shoved her fists under the table and began trying to think of a song… any song. Something to take her mind off of where she was and what she was about to do. Of course her twisted mind threw "Bad Blood" by Taylor Swift into the forefront of her consciousness and she almost snickered at how appropriate the song was.

"Sorry I'm late. I hope you weren't waiting too long." Mason's apology nearly scared the daylights out of her. She made an effort to point her eyes at him and quirked a sour smile.

"What's a few minutes between old friends?" She quipped. Clasping her hands in her lap Kitty sat back in her seat, the picture of thinly veiled hatred.

"Ouch… I think we were a bit more than that." Mason countered with a disturbing amount of embarrassment in his voice as he pulled his chair away from the table and took a seat. He'd never seen Kitty so dressed up. She looked like a prize to be proud of and he could hardly believe his eyes. Her hair was long where as it had been so short in college, and she was dressed presentably, rather than in a messy mish mash of colors. When Kitty only stared at him blankly he continued. "You look lovely." He added, sounding wistful. Kitty lifted her chin in defiance. _How dare he say something like that!?_

"I wouldn't know of course… Sherlock picked this out." Kitty pointed her eyes away from Mason and kept a stiff upper lip as she heard Sherlock mutter something hateful into her ear piece but hadn't caught it and didn't care to. "You sound well… Married life must suit you." The tension between Kitty and Mason was palpable. Mason felt as though he'd taken a blow. What sort of man was Sherlock that Kitty would let him refine her? Mason had tried endlessly to tame Kitty, and make her into something that would be good for the family image, but she fought him at every turn. Now suddenly Mr. Holmes could choose her outfits and make her presentable?

"As I said earlier, my wife and I are separated."Mason gave a long pause before continuing. "Vanessa and I… We just weren't meant to be." Perhaps the news would soften the cold statue of a woman before him. She appeared to him as something nearly exotic, he had never seen _this_ Kitty before. Where had this cold, refined creature come from?

"What a shame." Kitty mumbled dryly. Kitty bit down on her lip and steeled herself for the load of bullshit that was about to come out of her mouth. "I thought she would be good enough for you… I had hoped that you could find someone who wouldn't fail you like I did." Mason's eyes widened in surprise.

"You never failed me Kitty-Kat." He reached to take one of Kitty's hands but she pulled it away. Mason thought it was in shame, but it was all Kitty could do not to break his arm.

"Lets' not lie to each other, Robert." Kitty whispered. "I was an addict… and I deluded myself into thinking that someone as wonderful as you could love me… That my money would make up for what I lacked in refinement… You were just too nice to tell me I was wrong until I had taken it much too far." She was playing to him. Sherlock had lain out for her not only the outfit that would draw Mason in, but the psychological profile that would be his downfall.

Lestrade and John watched Sherlock as he began to grimace and look extremely grave.

"You, can't kill him." John piped up as he listened closely to the hushed voices. They were cramped inside a surveillance van that looked exactly like the ones in the cinema. "Lou's Plumbing and Electrical" was printed on the side with a gaudy picture of a plumber that looked disturbingly like Mario.

"Don't be absurd." Sherlock grumbled, sitting back in his seat.

"I know that face, you're doing your little "mental exercise" where you plan someone's murder." John took a sip of the rubbish coffee that Lestrade had provided and tuned back into the conversation. Sherlock did not intend to correct him about his mistake. The absurdity was not in the idea that Sherlock _planned_ to kill him, but could be found in the assertion that he _could not_.

"I'm not lying." Robert urged, reaching for her hand and taking it in his own. Withholding a shudder of disgust Kitty allowed him to keep it. His hands were smooth and clammy. Kitty hated the feel of them. They were the exact opposite of Sherlock's, cool calloused hands and for some reason that fact revolted her all the more.

"I failed you." Robert blurted out. Kitty recoiled at the statement, and pinned him with such a look of shock that he nearly didn't continue. She still had feelings for him, that much was clear. He could get her to leave that snob of a detective and be with him. He could be the one to make her presentable and refine her. She would be his prize. "I couldn't see what a beautiful woman you would be. I couldn't see how with just a bit of understanding you would blossom into a jewel fit for royalty." Robert watched her look soften and knew he was gaining ground.

_Is this son of a bitch serious? _Kitty did her best not to let her face show her disbelief. _Is he really trying to smooth talk me? He can't possibly think I'm that easy!_

"Use it to your advantage, Sniffer Dog." Sherlock thrummed into her ear. Hearing Sherlock's smooth voice grounded her in the reality of the situation and gave her the reminder she needed in order not to snap. _When did my emotions become so fragile?_

"I never should have listened to my parents." Robert knew what he was going to say down to the last syllable. Ever since Moriarty had asked him to woo his old flame in exchange for the gold and the insurance money, he'd been rehearsing it. He just hadn't anticipated her being so desireable now. He hadn't anticipated actually wanting her.

"What?" Kitty murmured.

"I never should have listened to my parents. I never should have left you for Vanessa. I want you back Kitty-Cat." Mason was serious. He was so utterly seriously Kitty felt like she was going to vomit. How many times had she wanted to hear that. How many times had she begged the darkness to make him see that he was wrong. The next words out of her mouth were nothing but venom.

"Why? Because now you want my wealth to save your business? We both know that after losing cargo like gold bullion your international stocks are going to tank. Practically overnight you are going to be worthless, not trust fund, no bank account, nothing. We both know that insurance money won't cover the collateral damage. I refuse to be your piggy bank." The coldness of her words sealed the deal. Mason was head over heels. She had become a cold calculating machine, even more precise than Vanessa had ever been.

Sherlock sat back in his seat. He hadn't told her any of that, she'd broken from the script.

"No, nothing of the sort. I have certain… assurances. This theft may damage the company's image, but it won't be the end of Mason Industries."

"How can you possibly know that?" Katarina pointed her eyes at him viciously. "Nothing short of the lost cargo itself would be enough to cover the damages." Oh mason could see it, he could see her staring down CEOs and destroying them, tearing apart deals until nothing but the most lucrative options were left. She was a queen, how could he not have seen it.

"That's exactly what I have!" He whispered hoarsely. Kitty went cold. She hadn't thought it would be that easy.

"What?"

"I have a friend, he's helped me steal it, I've already gotten away with it! Your idiot boyfriend thinks it was my wife!" Kitty pointed her eyes at the table.

"Sherlock was that everything you needed?" Before Mason could even get out of his seat Lestrade clapped his hand onto Mason's shoulder shoving him back down."

"Don't even try it."

"Oh it was more than enough." Sherlock looked at Mason with a smirk. Kitty stood and turned to leave before stopping and slamming her fist down on the table.

"You were right about one thing, Mason. You never should have left me for Vanessa." With that Kitty stormed out, tears hot on her face. Sherlock didn't follow. He would never be able to do her any justice as a shoulder to cry on, but he would make sure that Mason never saw the light of day again.

When Sherlock arrived home the flat was dark, but he knew Kitty was there. He crept quietly back to his bedroom and gently pushed the door open. Kitty was sitting against the headboard of his bed, eyes closed.

"Don't ever make me do anything like that again." She whispered. Sherlock couldn't see the tears on her face but her voice was rough with crying.

"You could have said no." He stated simply. Kitty scoffed at him.

"You don't even understand do you? You don't understand what doing that for you did to me." Kitty felt bitter and angry. She wanted to lash out at anyone and anything."That's all I've ever been to anyone really… Just a tool to be used. By my parents to hurt one another, by kidnappers to get at my parents, and now by you, to put a case to bed." Sherlock was silent.

Which only made her more bitter.

"No." Sherlock said quietly.

"What do you mean 'no'!?" Kitty yelled. "You used me to get a confession! You used me like everyone uses me!"

"No, I didn't. I didn't need you to get a confession, I've never needed confessions." Sherlock sounded aggravated.

"Then why!?" She was screaming at him. He'd never seen her quite this upset before.

"So that you could destroy him yourself. So that he wouldn't simply pay for hurting you… No. He will never forget that you were the one who betrayed him, that it was your dagger in his back… I gave you the last laugh… It isn't something I give away lightly." Sherlock flicked the light on so that he could see Kitty properly. She looked confused, and then a look of comprehension came over her. "I knew it wouldn't be easy for you, but I wouldn't have had it any other way." Sherlock sounded awkward to her. Like he wasn't quite sure she would understand what he was saying.

"You mean that was all for me?" Kitty leaned foreward. Sherlock didn't say anything. He just stood in the doorway looking at her.

"He left you… for an idiotic twig with a more than apparent eating disorder, whose had a string of love affairs behind his back for years… And from what I've managed to deduce, he left you in a very cruel way… You deserved to be the one to make his world come crashing down about his ears." Sherlock's voice slowly became more frustrated as he spoke.

"He said I that I would only be a burden… That he needed a partner, and not a cripple." She was ashamed, and Sherlock's silence wasn't helping. Her stomach ached with upset and nerves and her whole body was shaking. She wanted to disappear. " You...you don't think I'm-" Sherlock's large hands cradled her face and he kissed her roughly. He'd never kissed her quite so passionately, it was like all of his restraint was gone. Kitty gasped for breath the moment his lips released hers. He'd startled the air right out of her and she could feel the flush in every inch of her skin.

"No." Sherlock's hands snaked underneath her and pulled her into his lap as he sat on the bed. "Don't you dare think of yourself as a burden, Katarina." His deep voice was desperate, longing. "You're the one woman on this bloody planet who isn't." Kitty felt her stomach roll over and held Sherlock's face in her hands.

"Don't say it just to be nice, Sherlock."She said, tears welling up in her eyes. At this Sherlock gave a deep laugh.

"I'm not a nice person, Kitty. I don't say things just to be nice." He pressed another kiss to her lips and she smiled as tears fell down her face. The were quiet for a long moment as Kitty kissed Sherlock's face. He was taken off guard when she spoke.

"I wish I could see you… I wish I could know the color of your eyes, your hair, what your smile looked like… What your face looked like while you slept." Sherlock had no idea what to say to that. "If you ever leave me the only things I'll have to remember you by are the smell of your Olde Spice and the sound of your voice." Sherlock felt his stomach tighten. "I won't make you promise or anything silly like that. You're not the type to be locked to one person your whole life, I know that. I just wish I'd have more to remember you by." She kissed him tenderly after that, and it confused him. She kissed him so tenderly, it wasn't anything like the kisses they had shared before. It was sweet, and sad, and heartbreaking. Sherlock laid her down on the bed and pulled her against him. He had no idea what to say.

For the third time, Kitty had left him utterly speechless.


	20. Chapter 20

Kitty awoke in the middle of the night, suddenly wide awake. She sat up with a sigh and rubbed her face. This wasn't uncommon, being blind meant that her sleep cycles never properly lined up the way they ought to be. She listened for a moment and heard Sherlock breathing peacefully. Rising out of the bed she chose not to wake him. He slept even less than she managed to and she didn't want to disturb him. Kitty snuck quietly out of the room and padded into the kitchen. She had no idea what time it was. The lack of noise from the street told her that it had to be the middle of the night. She wasn't hungry so she left the kitchen and flopped down into sherlock's chair, tucking her feet up under herself and sighing. She was so used to Sherlock making noise at all hours that the quiet was both peaceful and unnerving. A soft frown creased her lips.

She was becoming too used to Sherlock. Used to his high speed life and unusual behavior. Her life had become whirlwind, and exciting, and even a touch dangerous because of him. He had single handedly made her life the way she had always wanted it to be… she was exhilarated by him, she was valued and treated like a normal human being.

This whole adventure was going to be very messy when it ended. She could imagine it. Sherlock's voice devoid of any feeling, all business, telling her that he was done with her and that she should make it easy on everyone and just move on. The thought made her stomach feel as though it was made of lead. It would be easy for him to do that, like flipping a switch. She didn't want to think of Sherlock that way. The few sweet and loving moments she had shared with him were what she wanted to think of most, but the cruel calculating Sherlock had taken center stage in her mind. She had listened to him completely destroy people without so much as a pause, the same Sherlock who handled her gently and did his best to be kind. It was like the other side of him was a weapon, and she felt it was all too easy for him to turn it on her, whether it would be accidental or intentional. Could she handle that sort of rejection? Most likely not. Her track record was rotten when it came to handling rejection. She loved too much, and she always picked the wrong man to love. Her relationships since Mason had been nothing more than dalliances, and casual meetings. Holding them all at arms length. That was all she had really expected this to be. Mutual companionship with no real expectations. Mason had taught her where expecting things would get her.

The memory of her life in and out of rehab filled her mind and she was very suddenly overwhelmed. Droning group therapy sessions and the constant complaining of other addicts began to loop in her mind. Kitty Swallowed hard. If this went the way the rest of her life had gone, she would wind up right back there, broken and lost. Pinching her eyes shut she shook her head. No, this time would be worse. The whole mess had gone too far, but how had it happened? How had Sherlock so thoroughly settled himself in her heart? He was a mean, finicky, outrageous man… but he was so beautifully brilliant.

Her life had completely rearranged itself around him, she had put everything on hold and moved in with him on a whim. An unwise decision to say the least, but she hadn't expected anything… and now here she was fretting over him like a lovesick schoolgirl. Anger bubbled in her stomach. It had happened so slowly, and yet all at once. She'd let everything go too far.

Kitty shot up out of Sherlock's chair and fumbled to find her coat. She was suddenly in a panic. She needed fresh air. Finding her coat on the back of John's chair she threw it on and bolted out the door. She'd made it half the way down the stairs when she heard him.

"Going for a walk then?" His deep, calm voice drifted down from the landing above her and she froze. Why did he have to be awake? Fury suddenly flushed her cheeks. Why did he _HAVE_ to be awake?

"I need some air." Her voice was sharp and echoed off the stairwell at her. "Is that alright?" She asked sarcastically. What was this? Why was she being so nasty? She wanted him to yell, and jab her with hurtful words so that it would be easier for her to stomach her own pointless rage. Of course that wasn't Sherlock's way.

"You know I fancy a walk myself." He stated as the floorboards began to creak under his weight. Kitty panicked.

"No!" The creaking stopped. His thought process was almost audible. Probably trying to evaluate why she had suddenly gone crazy. "I want to be alone." She mumbled, sounding nearly defeated. She knew she must seem totally round the bend, still in the dark blue cocktail dress that Mycroft had chosen and wearing her rain boots.

"I see." The confusion was plain in his tone. He had every right to be confused, Kitty didn't even fully understand what had caused this sudden mood. "May I ask why?"

"No." Kitty wasn't going to take the time to explain herself. She had been within 10 feet of Sherlock Holmes 24 hours a day for nearly two weeks. Space was something she desperately needed, if only to get the two Sherlock's out of her head. They plagued her like an angel and devil perched on her shoulders. The stairs creaked as Sherlock took the last few steps between them. He stopped on the step above her and she turned to face him.

"Can I expect you home?" His voice was calm, but she knew what he was really asking. Was she leaving for good? Had she heard a bit of worry in his voice? No. He wouldn't possibly care if she left and never came back. A premature end to his experiment would be his only inconvenience. It was a long tense moment before she answered.

"Yes." She felt him release a breath that he'd been holding and was nearly derailed by that one little sentiment. Was she wrong? Could he really care?

"Good… May we discuss this then?" She felt him gently touch her cheek and brush a hair out of her face. Why did he have to be awake? The roughness of his fingers made a lump form in her throat. It was too sweet, too familiar She didn't know what to believe.

"Yes." She turned away from him and took the last few steps in a hurry. She needed him out of her head, she had to think clearly.

"Kitty?" Sherlock's voice was as docile as she had ever heard it. Pausing only for a moment, she turned her ear to him.

"Yes?" She paused, her hand gripping the doorknob. It was the only thing keeping her from running back to him and completely losing her shit. Weak, that's what she was.

"If you don't return… I will worry." It was just a simple statement, but it nearly broke her heart. She tore the door open and walked as fast as her legs could carry her.

She didn't know whether or not she had lied to him.

Of course he followed her.

Sherlock hung back a block or so as she wandered down side streets and alleyways with no apparent destination in mind. She was behaving erratically, swinging wildly between anger and obvious sorrow. He had not calculated such a drastic effect from the events earlier that evening involving Mason, but it was becoming alarmingly clear that he had not even been using the right equation. Mason had hurt her more deeply than Sherlock could fathom. That had to be the cause of this. The look on her beautiful pale face when he had said he would worry was a puzzle in and of itself. She'd looked terrified. Wasn't it a perfectly sound thing to say? It was the truth. He was loathe to admit it, but the first time she had gone missing, the only thing keeping him from falling into a lapse of utter petulance, was the task of finding her.

Sherlock's mind turned murderous as he watched Kitty stumble over a curb and nearly fall. She was never so careless. He couldn't comprehend what could make her so erratic. Kitty was in a daze, all wrapped up in her own head. Staying on her trail was mere child's play for Sherlock.. Slow ambling steps eventually took her to the edge of the Thames, and onto a pier that jutted out into the water. Sherlock paused, one step from being on the pier himself. He didn't want to alert her to his presence by creaking one of the ancient wooden planks from which it was constructed. She stood still as death for what seemed an eon, just listening to the water. Sherlock strained to hear anything, and thought he could hear her speaking. Stealthily Sherlock crept onto the pier, going as slow as a cat stalking prey. He was pleased when the pier kept his presence secret.

Kitty was rambling, talking to the open air, no, to herself.

"What are you doing here Kitty?" The tone of contempt that laced her voice was foreign. "What do you expect is going to happen? That you're just going to skip with him into the sunset and live happily ever after?" A bitter laugh caught Sherlock's ear. "No. That isn't going to happen. Your life doesn't work like that." Sherlock was becoming understandably concerned for Kitty's state of mind, but he did not reveal himself. This look into her psyche was far too valuable to end so quickly. She fell quiet for a time, and then began again suddenly, and with no less venom. "You're a blind idiot! He's never going to love you! This will always be nothing but an experiment to him!" Kitty abruptly became very quiet and Sherlock thought for a moment that she had discovered him, but he realised she was sobbing. "As soon as you stop being interesting he is going to leave you and you'll wind up in some gutter... dead… You have to stop this!" Tears streamed down her face and she shook violently. Sherlock watched as she held herself and choked on her own tears. Should he announce himself? Comfort her? What was the proper response to such a wild display of emotion? Sherlock listened intensely, waiting for her to speak again when he heard the softest whisper.

"**He'll leave you just like Mason."**

Sherlock felt as though he had been slapped. Anger spread under his skin like fire and then became cold. That is what she expected of him, was it? His efforts to treat her as best as he could had fallen so short that she expected nothing less than ruthless abandonment. How had he so drastically failed? Sherlock had gone to enormous lengths to ensure that Kitty was happy with their arrangement. Deviating from his rules, breaking them left and right. He had done everything he could think of in order to do her justice, and yet… somehow he had fallen inexcusably short of the mark. Anger flashed again, and then his reason took hold. No. This was entirely his error. His calculations and efforts had been flawed somehow. As experiments went he had not received the results he had been hoping for… this would require his full attention. Although he did not know how he had failed, what minute detail he had neglected, he would be damned if he did not discover it.

Sherlock waited for her to say more,to give him some clue as to how he had erred, but she simply continued to sob and hold herself. A long silence stretched out, in which only Kitty's whimpers and the river made any sound. It was devastating to hear her morn so deeply. He would not rest until he had righted his mistake. Whatever that had been. Sherlock watched as Kitty slowly turned and began her way towards the beginnings of the pier. She passed so closely that he could have brushed her arm. Never before had she passed him, utterly oblivious to his presence. If she had discovered him, she made no sign. Sherlock followed, again, at a distance, mind racing. He had to somehow ease her worries, to show her that… that he was not so cold as she feared.

He followed her diligently until they were a block from Baker street. He took a side road and came around the back of the flat, sneaking into his bedroom through his window. She couldn't know he followed her. Sherlock threw off his coat and left it on his bedroom floor before strolling to his chair and seating himself. She would walk through the door any moment, and he had to be prepared. This would require no less than his most sterling behaviour.

But Kitty never made it to the flat.


End file.
